Shadows of the Past
by Flamestrider
Summary: An epic sequel to FFVII, which doesn't take into account any of the events of Advent Children. It's going to be very long, over 300 pages, by the time it's finished. Seven years after the events of Final Fantasy VII, trouble stirs once more on the planet.
1. Prologue: The Day of Judgment

Prologue: The Day of Judgment

The sun blazed brightly above even the great north, magnified by another, greater presence in the sky. Even the Great Glacier and the Gaia Cliffs, which remained frozen throughout the year, were beginning to melt. Winter was approaching, but there were no visible signs, and the meteor flared away in the sky, an ominous tribute to the unmatched strength of Sephiroth. Nothing would be able to stand in the way of its descent, which was about to begin. The citizens of the upper sectors of Midgar city, to which the meteor was closest, had begun to depart to Mideel, or Costa del Sol, or dozens of other locations. The poor were flocking out of the slums of Midgar, fleeing to Kalm, the closest town in the area. The Day of Judgment was at hand.

North of the town of Icicle Inn, the last bastion of civilization in the arctic lands, north of the endless snowfields and snowy forests of the Great Glacier, and north of the sheer frozen glaciers of the Gaia Cliffs, lay the Crater. It had been there for as long as humanity could recall, perhaps the result of the first time the Weapons were unleashed upon the world, or perhaps a scar from an earlier age, from even before the Cetra. It marked the northernmost part of the planet like an ancient, unhealed wound. The Crater ran deep down, towards the center of the planet, and from above, the view was soon obscured by shadows and the Lifestream, the blood and essence of the planet. Farther into the planet, the crater narrowed, and the waters of the Lifestream cascaded freely down its sloping walls. Few mortal eyes had ever set sight on such a spectacleStill farther the Crater tore, down into the very heart of the planet, surrounded by the Lifestream and pure Mako energy. Huge floating rocks spiraled downwards, serving as a crude stairway leading to the pulsing light locked away in the core of the planet. Too bright to observe without being blinded, the Materia Crystal Holy was all that could stand between Meteor and the mortal world.

Around the shining White Materia was clustered a tiny group of eight, floating in midair, and catching their breath. Slowly, the environment shifted around them and rock platforms materialized beneath their feet. Standing just in front of the others, a man of twenty-one, with brilliant blue eyes and elaborately spiked blonde hair, slowly sheathed the giant sword gripped in his hand and hung his head. Before his hand had left the sword hilt, however, his head snapped up, cold blue eyes locked on a distant island of stone, the sword back in his hand.

"He's here. I can feel him," was all he said before jumping down from the platform on which they stood, and heading determinedly toward the island of rock.

"Cloud, wait!" cried one of the party, a slim and beautiful young woman, with long dark hair and large brown eyes. "Cloud!" she cried again, running after him. It was no use; Cloud simply walked onwards. As he approached the ledge he had fixed his eyes on, he looked around to see the air filled with dozens of floating rocks.

"Sephiroth!" he cried, cold fury burning in his eyes. Instinctively, he leapt to the side as a man jumped down from an island above his head. Cloud winced with pain as the man's blade cut into his back, then turned to face his adversary, the man whom he had hunted for so long.

Sephiroth. The man who had unleashed the Black Materia itself upon the world. The man who had burned Cloud's hometown, Nibelheim, to the ground and killed his mother. The man who had killed Aeris. The man who was standing before him now. His chest bare, with waist-length silver hair and green Mako eyes, he held his long slender sword, the Masamune, carelessly at his side. Cloud leapt forward, sword in hand, and there was a flash of light as blade met blade. As Cloud drew back, Sephiroth lunged, and there was another brilliant flash as their swords clashed again.

Hurrying across the cliff, the beautiful young girl ran after Cloud. Clothed in a short leather skirt and white shirt, she scampered across boulders and leapt over pits with one thing in mind: reaching him. Topping a ledge, she saw him, facing Sephiroth, with their swords outstretched. Their blades clashed repeatedly, producing flashes and sparks of light. At that moment, the Planet gave a violent heave, and the ground beneath the girl's feet collapsed, sending her tumbling over the ledge towards Sephiroth.

Without sparing her a look, Sephiroth pulled back the Masamune and thrust it backwards, impaling the girl on the blade. Carelessly, Sephiroth tossed the girl's lifeless body aside, his eyes fixed intently on CloudAnd Cloud saw only her. First Aeris, and now Tifa. How could it have happened like this? A roar of rage and sorrow ripped from his lungs as he drove his sword straight through Sephiroth's chest. Both men looked down at Cloud's blade in surprise, and then Sephiroth tilted back his head in what might have been a laugh and fell backwards over the ledge, into the Lifestream. Cloud watched him fall with a mixture of surprise, satisfaction, and sorrow. As Sephiroth's body began to sink farther into the Lifestream, it became that of a young girl in a pink dress, with brown hair flowing down her back, her eyes closed in an eternal sleep. Horror began to form on Cloud's face as he looked down upon the familiar body disappearing into the murky depths below.

"Aeris?" was all he managed before sheer disbelief overtook him. It was impossible, yet she was right there before him, slipping away faster and faster into the depths of the Lifestream. As Cloud turned his head away, unable to watch silently as the girl he had failed to save disappeared forever, and his eyes fell upon Tifa, lying motionless in a pool of her own blood. Sobs racked Cloud's throat and he tried in vain to call to her, to get her to respondAll that Cloud could think of was that he had failed them both. He had sworn to protect both Tifa and Aeris from harm and yet he had been unable to save them; he had simply watched as both women died before his eyes. A cry of anguish escaped from his throat, and–

Cloud awoke with a start, sweating uncontrollably and breathing heavily. He looked over his right shoulder and saw Tifa, lying on the bed beside him, her beautiful body silent and still, but silent with sleep, not death. Cloud's breathing relaxed and he lay back on his bed. He had often had nightmares about that fateful day seven years ago, when the Planet had decided in favor of the humans, but none so vivid or real as this one. He and Tifa had lived together in the city of Neo-Midgar for two years after their marriage. Built around the small town of Kalm, where the survivors of Midgar had gone after the city's destruction, it had become a metropolis to match the original city. Cloud looked at the bedside clock and saw that it was six-thirty. _Oh well, too late to return to sleep now,_ he thoughtJohn Reeve, the president of the Shinra electric company, had requested his presence at the unveiling of a monument to the Day of Judgment. It would be a busy day. Cloud found a clean shirt, and was drawing it over his shoulders when he suddenly felt a stinging pain from his back. Glancing over his shoulder at the mirror, he saw a thin, clean slash across his back that had not been there when he had gone to sleep.


	2. Chapter 1: Seven Years

Chapter One: Seven Years

As Cid Highwind had realized, a lot could happen in seven years. When he had first met the group of eight weary travelers who claimed to be following Sephiroth, he wanted nothing to do with them. He had passed his idealistic youth, and knew that life did not work out as nicely and neatly as it did in stories. But when Rufus Shinra shattered his dreams of space travel once again, he had not seen any alternative to joining them on their seemingly futile mission. Although his prized airship, the Highwind, had been destroyed on the Day of Judgment, he had finally been given what he had wanted. John Reeve, his good friend and the new head of the Shinra electric company, had put him in charge of Shinra's newly resurrected Space Program. Flight was also making a triumphant return into his life. He had built himself a new personal plane, the Dragon Jet, and had begun planning the construction of a second rocket, in which Shinra's early dreams of space exploration could finally be fulfilled.

Sighing, Cid lifted himself grudgingly from the couch. Tall, with short graying hair and a weathered face, he looked much older than his thirty-nine years. He was expected in Neo-Midgar shortly, for the unveiling of a new monument. Reeve was sending a shuttle to pick him up, and he would ideally arrive within five hours. Everything was going perfectly. Too perfectly, in fact, and Cid was suspicious. In all his life, nothing had ever turned out perfectly, and it was always at the end when that little something went wrong. _It'll be good to see Cloud and the others again,_ he thought, steering his thoughts away from his strange sense of unease. He wondered if the kid had ever got around to marrying Tifa. Barret and Nanaki too, neither of whom he had seen in over six years. He wondered how much they had changed.

Shera, Cid's wife and former assistant, came through the door, wearing a heavy fur coat. Winter had come quickly this year, and it was an especially cold one. Cid could see snow falling through the open door.

"I think it's about time we started off." Shera said, brushing snow from her face. "Our plane is coming in."

Cid took his heavy leather jacket from where it hung on the door and picked up his bag.

"I'm ready," he replied. Shera quickly gathered her luggage and hurried outside. But Cid hesitated. He saw his spear, the Venus Gospel, leaning against the wall of the open closet, untouched since the battle with Sephiroth seven years ago. Following a sudden instinct, Cid picked up the spear and hurried out the door, locking it behind him. Cursing the weather as he lit a cigarette, he hurried towards the Shinra shuttle. He strode quickly up the ramp that had descended from the back of the plane to find Shera already inside. The pilot, dressed in arctic gear, glanced dubiously at Cid's spear. "I like to be prepared," Cid said.

The pilot shrugged and returned to the cockpit and, within minutes, Rocket Town was obscured by swirling mists. Cid sighed, for he knew that the pilot had thought, even if he had not asked, the most obvious question: Prepared for what? _But that's what I wish I knew_, thought Cid. _That's what I goddamn want to find out._

Yuffie Kisaragi sat on a ledge overlooking her new home in Mideel and worried, her short black hair blowing in the wind. She worried about several things, the first of which was how years had passed in what seemed like months. It was seven years now since she had helped Cloud and his friends defeat Sephiroth and put an end to the meteor once and for all. Throughout this time, she had retained her slim graceful figure and playful smiling face. Though Yuffie hated to think about it, she was now twenty-three, and felt that seven years had passed with only two years worth of action in them. And now she was being called back to this Neo-Midgar for some sort of ceremony. Yuffie hated ceremonies, or for that matter, anything formal, which was why, even after climbing the Pagoda of the Five Sacred Gods and defeating the master of each art, she had refused to be formally acknowledged as the next ruler of Wutai. She thought her father, Godo, understood, but Gorkii and the others never would. So she had left the city of Wutai in Cid's old personal plane, the Tiny Bronco, which he had finally repaired, and wandered the planet in search of a new home. In the end, she had chosen the recently rebuilt town of Mideel, remembering the vast stores of untapped Mako energy that occasionally hardened and formed Materia. And Yuffie loved Materia.

The second thing she worried about was precisely that. In the past weeks, less and less Mako was appearing around Mideel, and less of that was hardening into Materia. It was as if the Lifestream, formerly prominent in the Mideel area, had begun to seep away into the recesses of the Planet. She had been making a generous living in Mideel by selling Materia that held no interest for her. So this decrease in the amount of Materia near Mideel could not only threaten her hobby, but also her very means of survival.

And the third thing about which Yuffie worried was that Mr. Allendor, proprietor of the one other Materia shop in Mideel, would notice the sudden disappearance of the Materia in his storage shed. He kept the storage shed locked, but, then again, locks did not hinder Yuffie at all.

A change was coming upon the world. Yuffie could sense it, and she had a keen sense for these things. Perhaps it was time to move on. She had lived in Mideel for four years, which was an unusually long time for Yuffie to remain in one place. _Yes, a change is coming upon the world,_ she thought. _And I'm going to go out and meet it._ Perhaps she really should go to this ceremony in Neo-Midgar. There would be plenty of Materia there. And if the ceremony was too formal or tedious, Yuffie would be gone before anyone was the wiser. The letter Yuffie had received mentioned that an aircraft would pick her up and escort her to Neo-Midgar. _Well, whoever the pilot is, he'll sure be in for a surprise_, thought Yuffie as she returned to her house for her favorite weapon, the Conformer, and her bag of treasured Materia. She tossed a few spare clothes carelessly into the bag, as well as some snacks for the journey, and was out the door.

A few hours later, Mr. Allendor went into his Materia storage shed and found it completely empty, and for all his howls of frustration, the Materia did not reappear. At the same time, the pilot of a recently arrived Shinra aircraft knocked furiously on the door to Yuffie Kisaragi's house, and though he waited there for half an hour, she neither opened the door nor returned. And the Tiny Bronco, carrying a huge bag of Materia and a lone passenger, skimmed over the seas towards the city of Neo-Midgar.

"My lord?" asked a trembling voice from below the ledge.

"Speak," replied Nanaki, looking down at the young man beside him. He was new to Cosmo Canyon, an immigrant from Gongaga, and was not yet accustomed to Nanaki. Nanaki supposed that he did have a rather frightening appearance to one who had not seen him before, looking somewhat like a muscular red lion, with a fringe of tall red hair along his back. Black tattoos adorned his sides, with one standing out: the numeral thirteen, branded onto his left flank. Nanaki grimaced, remembering the pain of that branding. _Never again, _he vowed. _Never will I endure such captivity._ A nervous clearing of the throat brought Nanaki back to the present, and he turned his attention to the young man beside him.

"The Harad-Zun are marching, my lord. They will be here within the next three hours."

"Very well. We shall be on the plain to meet them." As the man turned to walk away, Nanaki called out after him. "What's your name, boy?"

"J…Jorm, my lord," came the unsteady answer.

"Well, Jorm, today will be a famous battle. You will recount this to your grandchildren, I hope?" Jorm nodded and began to walk away again. "Oh, and Jorm," Nanaki added, "don't call me 'my lord'. Nanaki will do." The boy scampered away, not wanting to be stopped again, and Nanaki watched him with a sigh. Jorm, and many others like him, were the last remnants of the population of Gongaga, a small jungle town to the south. For seven years after Nanaki had joined Cloud and his friends and destroyed Sephiroth, peace had reigned. And now, just one week ago, this band of marauders, who called themselves the Harad-Zun, had appeared, seemingly from nowhere, and attacked Gongaga. Fully half the town's population had been slaughtered, and the rest had escaped to Cosmo Canyon with tales of the strange garb and weapons of these fierce bandits. No, although Nanaki would have loved to go to Neo-Midgar and see Cloud, Barret, Tifa, and the others again, he was quite busy at the moment.

The past seven years had passed quickly for Nanaki, who lived a much longer life than humans. Although he was now fifty-five years old, he was really the equivalent of an eighteen year old boy, far too young to be the Guardian of Cosmo Canyon. But his father, Seto, had held the title, and he was Seto's only son. Sometimes, Nanaki wondered whether he would ever be able to continue his family's line, as he seemed to be the only one of his race alive on the planet. However, his grandfather Bugenhagen had once told him that he might find a mate someday, and that thought filled him with hope. Nanaki had learned long ago that Bugenhagen was rarely wrong.

Stepping down from the ledge high on the cliffs above Cosmo Canyon, Nanaki contemplated what the boy had said. Three hours. It seemed that the raiders had used Gongaga as a base of operations, and that they had finally begun their attack on Cosmo Canyon. Growling, Nanaki called for the warriors of the Canyon to be assembled. The Harad-Zun had more than double their warriors, and though Nanaki knew his chances of survival were slim at best, he could not let it show. He could not let the canyon fall without giving his enemies the fight of their lives.

With a scowl, Barret Wallace flung open the door to his house and stomped angrily inside. Throughout the day, he had been nagged by the feeling that he was forgetting something, something that would make him very angry. And then he had remembered. _That asshole Reeve, inviting me to some kinda new Midgar,_ Barret thought. _Who the hell does he think he is?_ He wouldn't mind seeing Tifa or Cloud again, but there was no way he was ever going to that city. Reeve, the clever asshole, had joined them in their chase of Sephiroth, using a robot mog named Cait Sith, only to betray them to Shinra. He had even held Marlene and Elmyra as hostages, preventing Cloud and Barret from harming him. _I should have killed the damn traitor when I had the chance,_ he thought. _I should have guessed that the last surviving Shinra executive would keep polluting and destroying the planet like his company always had._ Barret swore angrily and kicked a chair, causing a passing civilian to jump with fright and hurry on his way. Barret knew people were scared of him when they first saw him; his appearance could hardly be called anything less than frightening. He was large and stocky, with tattooed arms the width of most people's heads and black skin. His right arm had been severed, and a gun had been grafted to the stump, giving him the look of a killer and a convict.

For seven years after the showdown with Sephiroth, Barret had worked hard to rebuild his hometown, North Corel, from the ruins in which he had found it. Because of Shinra. They had come in the night, when he and his friend Dyne were away, killed their wives, and burned the town. And he had supported their corrupt scheme to power the town with Mako, the blood of the planet! Never again would he make that mistake. Never would he trust Shinra again. Shinra depicted him as a ruthless, cold-blooded killer. But they were the one who were murderers. Myrna, Elenore, Dyne, Biggs, Wedge, Jessie, the people of North Corel, the people of Midgar's Sector Seven, countless soldiers from Wutai, Soldiers from Fort Condor… all dead because of Shinra. And the bastard Reeve had the nerve to invite him to this new, corrupt, polluted city!

Barret sighed heavily. Nearly half of his life had been a war against Shinra. He had sought to bring them down ever since the destruction of North Corel. He had gone to Cosmo Canyon, where he met Biggs, Wedge, and Jessie, and formed the Rebel group Avalanche. Now they were dead, and he was the only one left. But he would not give up. Barret would keep fighting Shinra while there was blood left in his body.

Gastor approached the open door cautiously. He was a native of North Corel, in his early thirties, and one of Barret's closest friends. He could see clearly that Barret was angry, but proceeded anyways, which meant that he must have something important to say.

"What is it?" Barret asked impatiently.

"We have just received word from Cosmo Canyon, Barret. The town is under attack!" his friend replied. _Cosmo Canyon,_ thought Barret. _If the town is under attack, Nanaki will be there. He would never abandon his hometown._ "Do you have orders for us?" asked Gastor.

"Grab your gun, Gastor, and assemble the other men. We're leaving now," replied Barret as he stepped through the door. And a group of buggies, filled with the strongest fighters of North Corel, left the town five minutes later, heading north, towards Cosmo Canyon.

John Reeve paced bitterly back and forth in his office. The conference room in the Shinra headquarters in Neo-Midgar had been arranged with twelve chairs, but Reeve knew that not all of them would be needed. Nanaki had already sent back a polite letter of refusal, informing Reeve of many 'duties' around Cosmo Canyon that required his attendance. Complete bullshit. Likely, all the others would hastily invent their own reasons for not coming. He could only rely on Cid, Cloud, and Tifa to come. What kind of a stupid idea had it been, inviting all his former allies, as if they were some kind of successful sports team, and had a sense of unity and loyalty? No, they had all gone their own ways and probably completely forgotten him by now. _After all, what did I do other than hand over the keystone to Tseng?_ Reeve thought sullenly. _What did the stupid stuffed Mog and robotic cat do other than betray the group to Shinra?_

In the past, Reeve had often wondered just why he had chosen the disguise of Cait Sith. Now he knew. He and Cait Sith alike were clumsy, blundering, and unwanted. His entire life had been a series of mistakes. As head of the Urban Development Department of Shinra, he had realized, after working hard to establish a cost-effective and realistic city layout for Midgar, that President Shinra was willing to destroy one of the sectors of his city to exterminate a few rebels, and was not even considering rebuilding it. When the president died and his son Rufus took over, Reeve soon found that the new president had absolutely no interest in rebuilding Midgar. His life's work trampled on by two consecutive presidents, Reeve grew bitter and longed to join the terrorists of Avalanche, just to show his defiance of Shinra, and was finally given an opportunity as Cait Sith. But just when he had found something to live for, he was brought back to the real world with orders from the president he despised to steal the keystone. The only help he had ever been to the rest of his 'friends' had been because of his worthlessness; his ability to sacrifice the mechanical Cait Sith. Regarded as a traitor and a coward by the only people he admired, Reeve's life took another downward spiral. And now, when he thought he had finally managed to control his life by reviving Shinra, he was harshly reminded of how little his former fellow adventurers trusted him.

Alex Preston, Reeve's personal secretary, hurried through the door. He was a short man, with unruly brown hair and a red face, currently made even redder by much running. Already expecting an answer, Reeve turned to face him, waiting.

"Cid Highwind is on his way, sir," Preston began. "The pilot of the plane sent to Mideel said that he could not find Yuffie Kisaragi, although the townspeople said that she was indeed in town. Barret Wallace and Vincent Valentine simply could not be found anywhere, in or around the towns you sent the planes to."

Reeve swore mentally. He had known this would happen, though he did not expect them to actually hide from him. Reeve suddenly laughed out loud cynically. His former companions clearly hated him. There was no use pretending anymore. Cloud and Cid were only coming because they had to, because he had given them official positions in Shinra. Reeve suddenly became aware that Preston was still standing around nervously, waiting for further orders.

"Remove the unnecessary chairs, Preston" he said, his voice suddenly cold and expressionless. His secretary hurried away gladly. As he watched Preston leave the room, Reeve realized that the man probably thought him insane, but it did not matter. _Let them think what they like,_ he thought. _For I still hold executive power on this continent. And I intend to use it._

Wearing the discarded helmet of a Shinra MP, the man ran behind a fallen billboard near a massive ruined skyscraper. "Join Soldier", it said, ironically enough, with a picture of Rufus, the last president of Shinra, pointing his finger directly at the viewer. Breathing heavily, the man crouched, concealed from view by billboard and debris alike. The targeting system of the sniper rifle scanned the snow-covered area and settled on the only exit from the pile of rubble. Sweating, the man removed his helmet, revealing a bright orange headband wound around his forehead. Holding on to the back of the helmet, he held it out just an inch from the side of the billboard. Instantly, a gunshot pierced the air, and, dropping the ruined helmet, the man darted from his cover to the inside of an abandoned building.

"Shit!" Reno swore, as he quickly reloaded the rifle, keeping his eyes on the fleeing man. _I should have known he wouldn't be stupid enough to expose his helmet, _he thought. _This guy is good._ Reno scanned the building that the man had entered until he found what he needed. A tiny hole in the wall, too small to be noticed except by a careful observer, sixty feet from where the man had entered the building. Thinking he was safe, the man let out a long breath and began to walk down the corridor. Reno waited till the exact moment, and then fired. _Good, but not good enough,_ he thought with satisfaction, as a faint cry let him know that he had hit his mark.

"That was the last one," he said, and putting the sniper rifle aside, he stood up and sighed with exhaustion. Seven years without employment could do a lot to a man. Of average height, Reno wore his dark blue suit carelessly, his coat hanging open and his shirt partially unbuttoned. His reddish-brown hair was cut fairly short, but hung down his neck in a thin ponytail. He stood casually, shoulders slumped, as if he were exhausted and depressed, but, in reality, Reno was alert as ever. One of the three surviving members of the Turks, a team of elite fighters employed by Shinra, his situation had gone from bad to worse as two successive presidents, each worse than his predecessor, had been killed. After Scarlet and Heidegger, leaders of the Defense Department, had attempted to take power and failed, the surviving Turks had withdrawn their support from the dying company and retreated into the back alleys of Midgar. For seven long years they had traveled the world in search of employment, but only found jobs that lasted them a few months, if not less. They had returned from their fruitless search to Midgar, only to find the city in chaos. The street gang Vice, which had only been a minor threat before the city's collapse, had overrun and had a firm grip on over half of Midgar, both the upper and lower areas. The Turks had retreated to the Sector 2 plate, and had fought off Vice's raiding parties, distinguished by their orange headbands. Something was wrong with the raids lately, though. They were too organized, not the work of ordinary gangsters. Reno was brought back to the present by Elena's voice, complaining again.

"How long are we going to stay here?" she inquired. "How long? We are the Turks! Are we supposed to spend the rest of our lives sniping irrelevant gangsters?" For the thousandth time, Reno wondered why Tseng, the former leader of the their squad, had ever chosen Elena. She was a competent fighter, and had a nice body, but sure could be a bitch when she put her mind to it, and was even more inclined to do so since Tseng's death. Reno turned to face the woman. Her penetrating eyes, short blonde hair, and spotless blue uniform worked together to give her an appearance of fierce arrogance that Reno had grown to despise.

"For the last time, Elena, we're not leaving till I say we are! There's just something in this city…" Reno trailed off. He could not completely explain his intuitive sense anyways.

"Oh, fuck you, I'm leaving," Elena said when he did not complete his sentence, and stomped down the stairs and into the biting cold. The third man in the room stood up to walk after her, but was stopped by Reno.

"Don't worry; she'll come back soon. It's like the thousandth time she's threatened to just go away, and she's never followed through with it," he said, laughing grimly. The second man relaxed and sat down opposite his fellow Turk. Rude was a tall man, taller than either Reno or Elena by a head. His suit was clean and unwrinkled, complete with a formal black tie, giving him a professional air that neither Reno nor Elena could match. His head was shaved bald, and he wore shades covering his eyes. Rude was an excellent fighter, and rarely spoke, but when he did, it was sound advice.

"The days of the Turks are over, Reno. After thirty years we wake up to find only three other squads left after this war in Wutai, and they all get killed, one way or another. There are only three of us, and all the veterans from the old times are dead. We haven't had any work for two years. At this rate, it's gonna be over soon."

"Don't give me this pessimism shit," Reno burst out angrily. "Just shut the fuck up, okay?" _It didn't use to be this way,_ he couldn't stop himself thinking. _We didn't use to get into disputes every goddamn day before Tseng died. Maybe Rude is right._

"If you want employment, I can offer that," a voice from the doorway remarked casually, and both men sprung up, guns ready, and whirled to face the newcomer, who simply stood watching them, a trace of a smile appearing on his lips. "Don't worry. I'm perfectly harmless."

"Who the shit are you?" Reno asked, recovering quickly from his surprise. With his carefully trimmed blonde hair and formal black suit, the man did not look like one capable of surviving in the harsh world of Midgar, but rather like a wealthy businessman, unaccustomed to the world outside his sheltered mansion. Yet it took a lot of courage to stand up to a pair of trained gunmen, ready to kill in an instant, without flinching. And Reno knew that he was not looking at some average upper class citizen. The man probably did not intend harm, he realized. If he did, he could have killed them both while they sat and talked, unaware of his presence.

"Does it really matter?" the man replied. "I saw you fight earlier, and your skills are considerable. I am willing to offer you, the famous Turks, positions as guards for some excavation work in the Nibel Mountains. You will be paid generously. Provided you accept, of course, I will be expecting you there in two days time." Without another word, he turned and walked away.

The two men exchanged glances. The man's condescending manner had irritated Reno, and he had seemed so confident that they would come that Reno nearly wanted to refuse the offer just to spite him. But it was the only opportunity for work they had been given in two years, and probably the only one for a while. And he knew that they could not go on living off scraps of salvaged food forever.

"Well, what do you think?" he asked.

"Suppose it's worth a shot. Not like we have much of a choice anyways."

"Let's go then," Reno replied. "Shit!" he added, remembering something, and peering out the window at where Elena usually sat during her numerous sulks. "Where the hell is Elena?"

Vincent Valentine walked steadily onwards up the mountain, straining against the sweeping winds filled with flakes of frost. His progress had been hindered by the onset of winter, and further by the arrival of a Shinra jet, which had circled the area for half an hour before departing. It was not Shinra that Vincent fled from; he knew that it was now Reeve who headed the company. He would have liked to see the others again, but to do so would leave his task, which had only grown more urgent with the sudden vision he had received only hours ago, unfinished. No, they would have to wait. The Nibel Mountains loomed up around Vincent, great black spires of rock now covered with ice. For a long time he had searched the world, trying to find what he was looking for. What that was, Vincent did not know.

It was now seven years after the Day of Judgment, and Vincent, though he did not look it, was sixty-one years old. His unruly black hair flowed back in the wind, kept out of his face by a wide red headband. His eyes glowed an unnatural red, and in place of his left hand was only a mechanical claw. Vincent's tattered red cape billowed out in the wind behind him, revealing his pitch black garb and the long-barreled handgun tucked under his sash. For seven years he had wandered the face of the planet, searching for the answer to his unsolved question. Hojo, his arch-nemesis and the man who turned him into such a misshapen beast, had been killed. Sephiroth, spawn of Hojo and the man who had nearly succeeded in destroying the world, was dead. And Lucrecia, the love of his life and the only reason he had not yet killed himself, had finally been able to rest in peace. Yet somehow Vincent knew that it was not over, and his instinctive feelings had not yet been wrong. His search had taken him deep into the Nibel Mountains, where his feeling of unease only grew stronger.

Reaching the peak of the mountain, Vincent surveyed his surroundings. He stood on a fairly tall mountain in the Nibel Chain, and could see for miles around. Nothing. All he could see were the vast mountains and spires of rock and ice that spread out across the horizon. _There must be something out there,_ thought Vincent. _I'm just not seeing it._ And then he spotted it. A glint of metal, hidden in a small valley between two giant cliffs. The Nibelheim mako reactor, unused for so many years, still existed, it seemed. _Maybe it will hold the answers I seek_, Vincent thought, as he surveyed the area for any paths leading down to the reactor. It was a steep drop below his feet, with no way down other than the way he had come. _No,_ he thought grimly. _There is one way._

Clenching his fists tightly, he contorted his face with effort, and a change came over him. Skin and clothes alike transformed, as his back hunched over and his limbs began twitching as they grew lean and muscular. The creature that raised its head and looked around was nothing like Vincent. Rough purple skin covered all of its body, and it moved in a wolf-like manner. Two large horns protruded from the back of its head. The Galian Beast paused only momentarily before leaping an astounding distance to another ledge, and, surveying its environment, morphed back into Vincent. And without a backward glance he walked onwards, disappearing into a cave in the mountainside.


	3. Chapter 2: Reunion

Chapter Two: Reunion

In the harsh and rocky landscape of the northern part of the East Continent lay two sprawling cities only four hours walk apart. To the southwest lay the older one, a city on a plate, suspended by colossal pillars above the slums. Midgar was now only a skeleton of its former glory, filled with ruined buildings and piles of rubble, and home only to a few old hermits and the gangs of the slums, warring back and forth over meaningless patches of cement. But to the northeast lay its stunning counterpart, Neo-Midgar. It had grown up rapidly around the old mining town of Kalm and was now even larger than Midgar itself. Winter had descended early upon the world, and the twin cities were among the first to feel it. Snow was gently falling on the streets and buildings, as if compensating for the blazing heat seven years before. As people all over the city began to prepare themselves for the day, Tifa Lockheart stood in her house in the heart of the city and reflected on her life for the past seven years.

After Sephiroth's demise, the team had returned to the town of Kalm, where Vincent completely disappeared. Barret stayed for several months but eventually left to rebuild North Corel, accompanied by Marlene and Elmyra. Yuffie hung around a little longer, until Cid finished the repairs of the Tiny Bronco, after which she vanished with it and most of the team's materia. Cid had fumed about it for weeks, but eventually set himself to building a new plane. Nanaki stayed for about a year after the destruction of the meteor, and then returned to Cosmo Canyon. Cid stayed the longest, helping Reeve and Cloud with the resurrection of Shinra, but eventually he too returned home, two years after the Day of Judgment, leaving Tifa and Cloud alone in the rapidly expanding town of Kalm with Reeve, who was wrapped up in his work and rarely saw them.

And now it was the seventh anniversary of the Day of Judgment, and the first on which the day would actually be commemorated. At midnight, Reeve would be opening a monument in observation of the holiday, and before then, both Tifa and Cloud had been invited to meet the members of Reeve's newly appointed administration and, hopefully, to see their old friends again. Tifa wondered how much the years had changed them, for a lot had happened to herself and Cloud during the time. She now ran the Lifestream Restaurant, which she had recently opened, and Cloud had been appointed head of Shinra's defense department, although in the current state of the world, defense was almost entirely unneeded.

And yet, although the world was at peace and worrying was unnecessary, Tifa worried about Cloud. He had seemed somehow…empty after the battle with Sephiroth, as if he could not believe that it was finally over. She had thought that it was a temporary condition, but Cloud had seemed more withdrawn with each passing day, and that morning, he had even been awake and gone when Tifa woke up, although he usually slept much longer and deeper than she. _I'm probably imagining it,_ Tifa tried to reassure herself. But she knew it was a lie. She knew that Cloud had never been entirely at peace, even after seven years, still refusing to admit that it was over.

And she did not want to have to worry, not ever again. She wanted a quiet life in Neo-Midgar with Cloud, with nothing to trouble her. She wanted to hide, even if the world collapsed around her, to hide and stay with him in their last days of life. Tifa had helped save the world from Sephiroth, and she felt that it ought to help her out as well. She did not want to have to worry about Shinra or Sephiroth or Jenova or anything else. But deep inside, Tifa knew that it could never happen. Another evil would arise, and both she and Cloud would go out to fight it, but this time, things would not return to how they had been before. All she could do was hope it did not happen soon.

Evening came quickly to Neo-Midgar, and before Cloud knew it, the time for the reception had arrived. Returning to his house to change, Cloud found Tifa waiting for him, frowning.

"Where have you been all day? I was getting worried!" she said anxiously. Cloud turned away, not able, despite his best efforts, to lie to her face.

"Nowhere. Just wanted to walk around a bit," he replied, and looked up at her again. She was already dressed for the occasion, resplendent in a dress of midnight blue silk. She made no further comment on the matter, but Cloud could see that she did not believe him, and instantly felt ashamed for lying to her. But he could not tell her. Not anyone. Cloud dressed in silence and nodded to Tifa, who was immersed in thought. Even as she followed him out of the house and into the chilly air, she seemed troubled, preoccupied with her thoughts. The taxi that Reeve had sent was waiting for them outside, and, with their entry, it glided silently to the north.

The Shinra building in Neo-Midgar was modeled after its predecessor, which now loomed like a broken monolith over the urban wasteland below. At seventy stories, it stood much higher than any of the surrounding office buildings. Cloud surveyed it solemnly as the taxi climbed the steep ramp to the vehicle entrance in the back of the building. Cloud felt a shiver run down his spine as he realized that the last time he had been to the top of the Shinra building, he had found the president murdered and Sephiroth still alive, which had turned his life upside down.

Ever since Sephiroth's death seven years ago, Cloud had felt empty, as if some part of him was missing, but not gone. He had felt it first several weeks ago, to the north, calling to him, and since his dream, it had grown stronger. It should have been over at Sephiroth's death, but he still felt that something was unfinished, a thread hanging loose. And how he longed to have it all be over, to have an ordinary life for once. But he knew it could not happen.

Cloud snapped back to reality as the taxi shuddered to a halt, right next to the elevator. He stepped out of the cab and thanked the driver, then walked into the elevator with Tifa at his side. Tifa looked anxiously at Cloud, who said nothing and looked out through the great glass window as the elevator rose rapidly upwards. At last they reached their destination, and stepped into the hallway to find a familiar face awaiting them.

Cid seemed much older and somehow more worn than when Cloud had seen him last, and he had a weary air about him. He carried his spear with him too, which suggested that he would be ready for… Cloud shook his head. _There will be no more fighting_, Cloud thought, trying to convince himself. _And if there is, it will be just me this time. No need to get the others involved, just so they can all die like Aeris._ Cid's rough voice startled Cloud, a voice he had not heard in five years.

"Good to see you again, Cloud. Glad you made it intact." Signaling towards the large open door behind him, Cid continued. "But we can talk later. They're waiting for us." Cloud nodded, and he and Tifa followed Cid and Shera into the Conference Room, where Reeve and four others were waiting.

Reeve too had changed. Cloud had rarely seen him in person, yet he looked disdainful and distant. _It must be my mind, or some trick of the light,_ Cloud thought. _That dream must have made me paranoid._

"We might as well begin," Reeve said flatly. "The others are not coming. They are…busy. Introductions must be made. Mr. Strife, Mrs. Lockheart, Mr. and Mrs. Highwind, allow me to introduce you to Ms. Judy Adams, director of Urban Development here in Neo-Midgar." The formally dressed young woman sitting to Reeve's left rose from her seat, smiling, and shook hands with all four of them. "Mr. James Warrington, representative from the city of Junon," Reeve continued, indicating a man sitting to the left of Ms. Adams, who managed to look casual and relaxed despite his carefully trimmed beard and formal black suit. His inquisitive blue eyes took in all four of them, after which he simply nodded calmly. "Dr. Anton von Schwartzberg, head scientist in Neo-Midgar." An aging, straggly-haired man wearing large glasses two seats to Reeve's right beamed enthusiastically. "And finally, this is Mr. Alexander Preston, my personal assistant," Reeve concluded, indicating the ruddy-faced man to his right, who grinned uncertainly at Cloud.

"Now that introductions have been made, we should get straight to business," Reeve said, still in that flat, emotionless voice. "Though this is a commemoration of a great event, it is also a time in which much work must be done. Mr. Highwind and Dr. von Schwartzberg will be overseeing the construction of the second Shinra rocket. The rest of you all have other tasks for the next two weeks. Mr. Strife, you be will designing a system of training and stimulation for the Soldier program which does not involve extensive use of Mako energy. Ms. Adams, you will be working on a plan to extend the city while conserving maximum rural area and without resorting to Midgar's double layer system. I will be overseeing these activities, which will begin tomorrow, with Mr. Preston. Are there any questions?"

Cloud was astonished. In two weeks, he was supposed to design an environmentally safe alternate method to Shinra's highly successful Soldier program? _Reeve must be out of his mind,_ he thought.Yet he did not speak up, for Reeve was continuing.

The conference lasted for two more hours, during which time Reeve introduced several other members of the company's staff and detailed Shinra's agenda for the years to come. At last, the conference was over and the participants were given the chance to talk to each other. Cloud greeted each of the other members of Reeve's staff fully, and talked for hours with Cid about their lives for the past five years. At eleven o'clock each person was to retire to his or her room before the midnight ceremony, and as Cloud searched for his, he found Tifa deep in conversation with Warrington. He did not like the way the man was looking at Tifa, like a wolf at a lamb, lazily, but ready to strike in an instant. Warrington politely wished both Cloud and Tifa a pleasant evening, but Cloud saw traces of amusement and condescension in his eyes. And he knew that he and Warrington would not be the best of friends.

Cid stepped back into his room, his mind filled with thoughts. He was astonished by the fact that none of the others had come. Not that he had expected them all to. Vincent and Yuffie had always seemed to be loners, in a way, and he would have been surprised if either of them had showed up. But he had definitely expected Nanaki, and had thought that Barret's desire to see his friends again would overcome his hatred of Shinra. But that was not what Cid worried about.

What did worry Cid was the change that had come over Reeve. Five years ago he had been perfectly normal, and more than energetic about the renewal of Shinra. But now he had an air of hardness about him and spoke in an emotionless voice. Reeve had issued obviously impossible orders, given the deadlines provided, to him, Cloud, and Ms. Adams. The man was clearly insane! But what Cid wanted to know was why. Reeve had successfully restarted Shinra, when many others thought the company was doomed, and had founded a city even larger than Midgar itself. He was rich, influential, and had practically everything a man could want in life. So what had changed Reeve? Whatever it was, it could not be allowed to remain. Reeve was the leader of the biggest company in the world, the world's only superpower. He could not keep up this uncaring, unreasonable behavior or the whole continent, all of which was controlled by Shinra, would suffer.

And what worried Cid even more was the fact that he had the same feeling of instability that he had felt before boarding the plane in Rocket Town. Something was about to happen, and it would not be a good something. The feeling was stronger now, and Cid knew it would be happening soon, maybe even that night. He did not know how he was going to stop it, but he intended to try.

Cid peered around the room. It was a modern, luxurious suite that Reeve had provided him, and it took him some time to find the clock, which was located on the ceiling, of all places. It was time. Grabbing his spear, he set out towards the door, only to meet Shera on the way. Her room was adjacent to his, and she had apparently come in to inform him that it was time to go. She wore a pure white gown as she entered his room, and was about to speak, when she saw Cid holding the spear.

"I can feel it coming, Shera," he said in response to her look. "Something's about to happen, and it's gonna happen tonight. It's not gonna be good. I've got to stop it somehow."

"Why, Cid?" Shera asked quietly "You saved the planet once before. Don't you think that's enough? If there's another crisis, they can handle it without you."

"But there are no others this time," Cid replied. "I'm the only one who can stop it, and it has to be stopped." Then he saw how she felt. He had already left abruptly once before, and he was sure something similar was about to happen. Shera would have no way of knowing where he was, or even whether he was still alive. Cid hung his head and took her hand, which was cold as snow. "I'm sorry, Shera. I have to do this. I'll come back safe. I promise."

Without another word, he stepped out of the door and headed for the downstairs lobby, leaving Shera to hurry after him.

_Sephiroth had felt only a mixture of surprise and mirth, not pain, when Cloud's blade slid into his chest. He had left sanity far behind by then._

_It had started when he killed the girl, not out of any personal hatred, but because she was a Cetra, the only one who could stand in the way of Mother's plans. But he had not expected what had happened next. As the Masamune softly pierced her flesh, she had fallen quietly, not with an expression of grief or anguish, but with a half-smile, and at that moment, Sephiroth had felt what he had never felt before: Tranquility. Why did it have to be her? Why not one of the others? The girl's emerald eyes closed, and her hair waved in a gentle breeze. But he did not question Mother's motives. What was done could not be undone. If the girl was to die for Mother, so be it._

_It was only later that he had understood why the girl had smiled. Her counterstroke, not Cloud's sword, had destroyed him. Ever since that day, her voice was in his head, and all her memories. Memories of the innocent childhood he never had, driving him over the edge into madness. Her voice, challenging every decision he made, laughing. He could feel her at all times; they were one and the same, and he could not bear it. He had fled to the crater, seeking solitude, but could not escape, so he waited, waited for the meteor to take them all, the humans, himself, and Aeris._

_By the time Cloud and the others had come, he was completely insane, and laughed as he died, free at last from the voice in his head. Or so he had thought. But when he fell into the Lifestream, he did not disintegrate and rejoin the planet as most humans would. The mako in his blood would keep him alive briefly, he realized. But he never returned to the planet. He could not feel his body, and knew that it was dead, but the Lifestream would not accept his tainted soul. Sephiroth did not know how long he drifted through the Lifestream, his lifeless body preserved in its timeless currents, before he finally felt one of the two vastly powerful presences in the corner of his mind stir. He knew them, and had felt them ever since he had killed the girl. They were the last two Weapons, the most powerful ones, and one was waking from its slumber. While the other five had been created to protect the planet, these two would awaken only to protect the final haven of the Cetra spirits– the Promised Land. Sephiroth knew that they would serve him, for he was the last of the Cetra._

_CETRA, a voice boomed in his head. I AM THE GAIA WEAPON. At that moment, an image flashed in his mind. A gargantuan scaled beast, with the head and antlers of a stag. I FELT YOUR PRESCENCE ONCE BEFORE, IN THE TEMPLE, BUT NOW YOU ARE CLOSER TO ME, CLOSER TO THE SOURCE. I WAS CREATED TO SERVE THE CETRA. YOU ARE THE LAST OF THE CETRA. WHAT IS YOUR COMMAND?_

_Sephiroth smiled to himself. Already one served him. I AM SEPHIROTH, he replied. LAST OF THE CETRA. AND I WILL CALL FOR YOU WHEN I NEED YOUR AID._

_But he got no further, for at that moment, rough hands grabbed his cold, lifeless body and dragged him out of the Lifestream. Sephiroth heard muted voices through ears that had not functioned in seven years._

"_Jesus, he's got some bad wounds–"_

"–_Don't know how the hell he survived."_

_Yet one familiar voice cut through all the others, even though it was barely more than a whisper._

"_At last. I have found him at last." Sephiroth's green eyes slowly opened to lay eyes on a familiar face. A hated face. Though distorted by mutation and the stress of many years, the face was undoubtedly that of–_

Sephiroth slid out of the memory and into consciousness. The same scene had played in his head over and over, countless times, since he first was transferred to the cryogenic chamber that kept his ruined body in a constant state of stasis. But his mind could function normally when he was not reliving the same tortured memories. A thick glass pane allowed him a faint vision into the laboratory, all he could see of the world around him. These humans had the nerve to use him, the last of the Cetra, for experimentation! They would soon learn. Sephiroth tested his connection with the remaining clones and the cells of Jenova, his mother. Still solid. He had reached out to them several hours ago; whether it was during the day or during the night, Sephiroth could not tell. There was no day or night to him, no movement or sense other than a dim, blurry vision. Only his mind. But with it Sephiroth would make his mark on the world for the second time, and he would not be stopped. _Great events are about to take place,_ Sephiroth thought,_ and though they don't know it, these scientists are playing right into my hands. All I have to do is wait._


	4. Chapter 3: Enemies Emerge

Chapter Three: Enemies Emerge

Above the sandy badlands of the Great Desert rose the Gold Saucer, a fitting monument to the power of wealth. It towered out over the flat wastelands below like a gargantuan golden plant, visible for miles all around. Built upon a tiny, almost deserted prison town in the middle of the desert, the Saucer quickly rose in fame as the greatest casino, resort, and chocobo race course in the world. Would-be fighting champions came from as far away as Wutai to test their skills against specially engineered monsters in the battle square, and hundreds of bets were cast each day on the chocobo races. Some believed that Dio, owner of the Saucer, would soon take control of the entire continent, just as President Shinra had, for the hundreds of daily visitors to the Saucer raked in as much money as Shinra did. Several years previously, Dio had ordered the construction of an aerial parking lot, to make transportation simpler for those rich enough to afford their own planes. And it was in a space in this parking lot that the Tiny Bronco was parked.

Yuffie pushed her way through the crowd, lugging her bag of materia with her. She was willing to leave everything else in the plane, but an unguarded bag filled to the brim with materia was too much of a target for an aspiring pickpocket, of which there were many in the Gold Saucer, although the guards had been busy trying to catch them. With a sigh, Yuffie hoped that there was one thief they didn't catch. Her bag was now much heavier than when she had stepped out of the plane. When she had sighted the Saucer, Yuffie knew right away that Neo-Midgar could wait. She had only been to the Saucer twice before, and, though she did not have enough Gil for a ticket, nobody had noticed that the grating in the right wall of the entrance had come loose and that a human could easily fit through. She had spent five hours wandering the Saucer, and, in that time, had defeated all the opponents in the battle square, bet on two consecutive winning chocobos, and played every game in the Saucer's extensive arcade. Now it was time to continue on her trip. With luck she could reach Neo-Midgar before anything important happened.

The bag was really getting heavy, so Yuffie put it against the wall to rest for a moment. Just as she did, though, a party of four men broke through the crowd at a sprint, carrying bulging sacks. As he ran by, the foremost man grabbed a handful of materia from her sack and stuffed it in his bag. Yuffie leapt to her feet and shouted angrily,

"Hey! That sack's rightfully mine," she shouted. "You can't just take it from me!" Receiving no answer, she picked up her bag and hurried after the thieves, as she heard guards shoving their way to the front of the crowd. Seeing Yuffie following the thieves with a huge sack over her shoulder, the guard captain said to his men,

"Grab that girl! She's their accomplice!" Yuffie dodged the pursuing guards easily, but guessed that it would be a long time before she got back into the Saucer. _That is, if I can get out,_ she thought. Only then did she realize where the thieves had run. Into the aerial lot, and headed for a small blue plane parked directly opposite the entrance. Yuffie heard the roar of an engine, and the plane slowly began to move, headed directly towards her. The guards behind her quickly scattered, moving away from the rapidly turning propellers, but Yuffie stepped nimbly to the side and jumped forward as the plane drove by, grabbing onto and wrapping herself around the axle. The ground sped by beneath Yuffie, not two inches from her back. At last, the plane soared out of the aerial lot, headed north. One thing was clear to Yuffie. She was not getting to Neo-Midgar anytime soon.

Yuffie could not hear the discussion of the thieves over the roar of the engine, but she knew where they were headed. The cliffs surrounding Cosmo Canyon were riddled with caves, and it would be impossible for the Saucer guards to apprehend them once they reached their hideout. _Good thing I brought the Conformer with me,_ Yuffie thought, her mind on the large melee shuriken tucked under her belt. _I may need it._

Yuffie tried to judge their distance from the cliffs. It would be a while before the plane reached them, so she occupied her mind with the scenery instead. It was really a spectacular view, looking down on the dense jungles surrounding Gongaga. Then, out of the corner of her eye, Yuffie saw a party of six bare-chested men, wearing baggy trousers and wide sashes wrapped around their faces. In their hands, they clutched thin iron casks, pointed up at the plane. _Could they be…guns?_ Yuffie wondered. _Nobody uses firearms that primitive anymore._ But she was immediately proven wrong by the loud blast of gunfire that covered up even the roar of the plane's engine. The plane veered dangerously, then spun out of control as one of the thieves tumbled sideways out of the plane, trailing blood from a wound in his chest. Yuffie recognized him as the one who had taken her materia, and judging by the sudden loss of control in the plane, the one who had been flying it. The ground sped towards them rapidly, and Yuffie had no time to think before the plane hit the ground in the middle of a small clearing with a resounding crash.

Yuffie slowly opened her eyes to find herself all in one piece. She winced as she moved her arm and found it badly bruised, but realized, to her surprise, that none of her bones were broken. Then she realized why. When the plane had crashed, it had landed upside down, and she was now lying flat on the underside of the plane. She pitied the thieves, who would have had no way to escape a crushing death from the body of the plane. Yuffie had no worries about her materia, though. Materia could withstand all but the hardest blows. Groping around in the cockpit of the plane, she found the body of one of the thieves, his face bloodied past recognition by the shards of the windshield. Then she found what she was looking for. The bags of loot had all survived intact, and Yuffie put as much Gil as she could carry into her bag of Materia. Then she stood up and decided to scout the area. Perhaps the people of Gongaga could offer some assistance. But just as she reached the other side of the plane, she almost walked headfirst into two of the thieves, who were clearly as surprised as she was. One was a wiry man with greasy black hair and suspicious, darting eyes, and his companion was a stocky, bald-headed man, with a patch over one eye. Recovering from surprise and pulling a short switchblade from his belt, he said in a thick accent,

"Now, 'oo de bloody 'ell are you?"

Nanaki surveyed the small group of men in front of him, those willing to sacrifice even their lives for the freedom of the canyon. Three hundred warriors, against seven hundred of the Harad-Zun. Nanaki shook his head. No, not warriors. Blacksmiths, tanners, laborers, mechanics, and countless others, none of whom had ever killed another man, ready to fight and die for their home. He could not forget that. Messengers had been dispatched to the neighboring towns and villages, but Nanaki doubted any help would arrive before the Harad-Zun crushed them. He could see the enemy already, marching onto the field from the jungles of Gongaga, an unstoppable wave of destruction advancing to crush the Canyon's defenses. The men saw this too, but their ranks did not waver.

"Every man has a weapon, Nanaki. We await your command," said Arapat, the solidly built hunter who had been given the task of preparing the men for battle, from beside him. He clutched a long spear in his right hand, which was shaking violently. Arapat knew, as did most of the others, that they would not live out the night. But still, Nanaki had to keep up their morale. They would die, and he hated himself for letting them, but he could not give up the canyon, and knew that he, as their leader, was responsible for keeping up their spirits.

"Very well, Arapat. I am ready," Nanaki replied, and delved into his mind. Memories. Himself as a cub, sitting by the Cosmo Candle, listening wide-eyed to Bugenhagen's stories. Growing up alone, knowing he was the last of his tribe. His first visit inside Bugenhagen's lab, where he learned about the Lifestream. The day Bugenhagen died, leaving him alone to protect the canyon. Seto, his father, frozen in stone, who had battled alone against even greater odds, protecting the canyon from the menace within the cliffs. All these and many more he gathered together in his mind. Concentrating intently, he expelled them with a howl, and a fiery comet swept down from the sky to land amidst the ranks of the Harad-Zun. He suspected that it had been very effective, but the enemy still had over twice their numbers. Howling, Nanaki ran down the slopes, following Arapat and the others, as the Harad-Zun charged from the other end of the plain. The battle had begun.

They were among the ranks of the Harad-Zun in instants, and Nanaki finally got his first clear look at them. They fought bare-chested, and wore baggy green pants and green scarves wrapped around their faces, leaving only a small slit for their eyes. As the Canyon warriors charged forward, there were several loud bursts of gunfire, and several of Nanaki's men fell to the ground, dead. Then Nanaki saw their guns. They were long, single barreled weapons that looked more like iron casks than like firearms. They could shoot only once before reloading, and Nanaki was surprised that any culture still used such primitive guns. But he had to admit that they were effective, for none of the men hit by their large iron bullets ever walked again. The riflemen wore brown scarves and pants, some designation of rank or class. Those without guns gripped either large curved swords and iron shields, or massive spears with long slashing blades at one end. But before Nanaki could observe any other details, the enemy was upon them.

Nanaki tore left and right with his fangs, cutting bloody swathes through the enemy. The sky was rapidly darkening, and the full moon soon became visible over the cliffs. Nanaki looked upwards and howled, a sound that chilled the enemy warriors to their bones. And he became unstoppable, destroying enemies all around him, refusing to feel the pain of the bloody gashes on his flanks. But he saw the line of the Canyon's defenses waver and fall back, unable to stand against the oncoming horde of invaders. He saw Canyon warriors fall all around him, cut down by heavy curved blades. He saw Arapat, stabbing enemies on all sides, trying desperately to reach him. He even thought he saw Barret, face contorted and gun ablaze, unloading at the enemy. The bloodlust was now rapidly abating, but it clearly must have made him delusional. Arapat's pathway to Nanaki was now clear; he rushed forward, but did not see the warrior looming up behind him, his spear poised to strike. At the last moment, Nanaki concentrated on a green materia orb behind his ear, and the man behind Arapat erupted in flames. Panting, Arapat approached Nanaki.

"They're closing in all around us. We must retreat, or we will all die." Nanaki nodded grimly; he did not fail to see the logic in Arapat's remark.

"Signal the retreat," he said. "I'll hold them off." Arapat pulled from his belt a large ram's horn and blew one long, loud note, signaling the retreat to the canyon pass. Suddenly, the two men in front of Nanaki were flung more than twenty feet away, leaving a trail of blood, and Nanaki found himself faced with one of the most fearsome adversaries he had ever seen. The man was at least seven feet tall and as wide as Barret. His gargantuan curved sword was red with dripping blood. He was clothed in the same manner as his minions, but with blood-red trousers and scarf. But one prominent feature about him stood out even more than the others. The armor he wore was unlike any Nanaki had ever seen in his life, yet it looked somehow familiar. Huge crimson plates, shinning in a gemlike manner, covered his body, arranged in a pattern that seemed almost natural. Each plate was shaped like a giant scale, and each was completely unblemished and unmarked, as if made of diamond.

"So you're the leader, the famous Nanaki?" The man spoke in a deceptively soft voice, and he was evidently quite surprised to see Nanaki. "I believe that if you survive this day, you will be overjoyed in the future. However, that will not happen." _What is he talking about?_ Nanaki wondered. But he had no chance to contemplate the matter further, for his opponent suddenly brought the huge blade down mercilessly, straight towards his back. He reacted with lightning reflexes, jumping backwards out of the way, but could not stop the sword from grazing his already battle-scarred side.

Meanwhile, the men had heard the blast of the horn, and turned and ran back towards the canyon. Nanaki spared one final glance for whom he was sure was the leader of the Harad-Zun, and began to run himself. Oddly, he did not see Arapat running alongside him, but could not stop to look. They had been driven back to the cliffs, as he had expected. The finishing blow would come soon, but Nanaki knew one thing: he would give his enemies a hard battle.

Yuffie's mind raced frantically, searching for a convincing answer to the man's question. She quickly weighed what would sound believable versus what would get her out of this mess and decided, with no better alternatives available, on the truth.

"I'm Yuffie Kisaragi, and these are my materia. I came here to get them back, and I'd like to leave now," she said quickly, and watched the reactions on her adversary's face. Surprise came first, followed quickly by amusement. _Well, it was worth a shot, I guess, _she thought with a sigh. Laughing, the man said,

"Oh, so we're playin' by the rules now, eh?" Quickly his tone changed, and he closed the distance between himself and Yuffie, who found her back to the side of the plane. "Give us back our belongings, miss, or we'll 'ave to extract them from ya. Forcefully." Receiving no answer from the terrified Yuffie, he said "All right, 'ave it yer way," and thrust his knife forwards. But right before it reached her, the sound of a gunshot in the distance echoed through the air, and the man fell over dead with a bullet wound in his forehead.

The second thief, who had been standing several feet away, recovered from surprise before Yuffie, and darted away into the woods. _He must have thought I somehow caused that shot,_ she thought with amusement. As she watched him scampering away in fright she realized with a start that she was still in danger, and ran into the woods with her materia sack over her shoulder just as a second bullet buried itself in the side of the plane. She stopped in the shade of a great tree, where she was safely concealed by foliage, and contemplated her situation.

Her first instinct was to try and find her way to Gongaga. It would not be a long walk, and all of it would be through heavy jungle, which would provide great cover from whoever had attempted to shoot her down. But another thought held her back. _How safe can Gongaga be,_ she wondered, _With all these strange riflemen only half an hour's walk from the town?_ After some thought, she chose Cosmo Canyon. It would not be a long walk from her current location either, and though much of it would be over open ground, she doubted that even such a skilled marksman would be able to hit her when she neared the canyon. _And Nanaki might also be there,_ she thought. Even though he was far too grim and serious, Yuffie liked Nanaki more than most of the adventurers she had accompanied seven years ago. _Besides,_ she thought, _he might know just what the hell is going on around here. _

Wasting no more time, Yuffie began to walk westwards through the jungle, wondering who the masked riflemen had been. She considered herself a world authority on obscure knowledge, and knew for a fact that they could not be natives of the jungles around Gongaga. She had lived in the jungle for several months, just before she had met Cloud and his friends, but she had never seen nor heard of them. After the invention of the great airships, societies all over the planet had contact with each other, and it was hard to believe that one group of people had remained completely isolated for all this time. But it could be the only explanation. Yuffie could think of no reason they would use such primitive rifles if they had access to better ones. And if this was the case, then they had to dwell somewhere nearby, for long journeys would surely alert people to their presence. This still left a vast area in which they could live; any remote location between the Corel and the Nibel mountain ranges was a possible hideout.

Before long, the broad Alkani River came into view, and she continued along its forested bank for an hour and a half. At last she reached her destination, where several rickety walkways spanned the murky waters. Yuffie crossed the river and continued northwards until she finally reached the edge of the forest. If, as Yuffie suspected, she had been followed, her enemy would be waiting for her to leave the safety of the woods. The cliffs above Cosmo Canyon were only faintly visible in the distance, and it would be a journey without any form of cover. But it was her only choice.

Taking a deep breath, she darted forward onto the rocky plains, and then leapt to the side, just as a bullet hit the ground where she had stood only seconds earlier. The few precious seconds while the man reloaded his gun gave her time to take cover in a shallow gully behind a boulder. Her worst fears confirmed, Yuffie began planning her next move. By moving randomly, she thought, she might be able to elude him long enough to reach temporary cover. But the more she thought about it, the more she realized that her plan would never work. She had moved a mere thirty feet from the edge of the woods, and Cosmo Canyon was still as far away as before. Besides, she doubted that random movements would fool the man again, and she was bound to get exhausted before he did, especially with this huge bag of materia over her shoulder. This huge bag of materia…

In an instant, Yuffie had flung open the bag and was searching frantically inside it for one specific green sphere. At last she found it, and concentrated on it intently as she had done so many times before. Instantly, all traces of Yuffie's exhaustion vanished, and she darted out of the ditch with superhuman speed. Even the world's best sharpshooters would have a hard time catching Yuffie under the effects of a haste spell, and before long, she was out of the range of her opponent. Yuffie slowed to a walk as she spotted a group of campfires in the distance, just outside of Cosmo Canyon. _Well,_ she thought, _first I'll approach it, and then I'll hope they're friends._

Barret could hardly believe his eyes as Yuffie, of all people, walked into the camp with a big sack slung over her shoulder. _What the hell is she doing here?_ he wondered. _Of all the people who could possibly show up, it has to be her._ Barret could not think of any of his former companions, other than Reeve, he would want to spend less time with. When Yuffie caught sight of him, she was equally surprised.

"Hey Barret," she said cheerfully, peering around the makeshift encampment. "What's going on?" Grimacing, Barret ignored her and asked a question himself.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Oh, nothing much," Yuffie replied casually. "But I did see these weird masked guys with big guns earlier who tried to kill me. I was just wondering if anybody around here could tell me who they are."

_Damn, there's more of them,_ Barret thought. Scowling, he turned his attention back to Yuffie.

"Those same warriors are the reason we're all camped outside here. Arapat tells me they call themselves the Harad-Zun. He's the leader of the Canyon warriors here." An expression of worry crossed Yuffie's face.

"You mean there's some kind of battle going on? But then where's Nanaki?"

"Back there," Barret replied, gesturing at the cliffs behind Cosmo Canyon. The moonlight had illuminated the cliffs, casting a harsh shadow over the rocky slopes below, and in its cold glow, Cosmo Canyon suddenly seemed an impregnable fortress. Barret could see his army following him blindly, breaking like waves against rock on the enemy fortifications, and knew that he would lead most, if not all, of them to their deaths. But he could not give up. Shaking his head, he continued.

"The Harad-Zun have taken the town itself, and Nanaki and some of his men are pinned up with the civilians in the caves. We've got to hit the Harad-Zun hard from behind before they can enter the cliffs and kill Nanaki and the others." He sighed heavily. "And it's not gonna be easy. We got a hundred and fifty men down here, and Nanaki's probably got another hundred with him. The Harad-Zun have at least five hundred. But we can't just sit on our asses and let Nanaki get killed."

Yuffie nodded gravely, and Barret was surprised she could ever be so serious.

"You better get some rest," he said, trying to take his mind off the upcoming battle. "We strike in three hours."

"Here we are," said Elena's captor, pushing her forward roughly. "It's time f' you to meet the boss." Elena stumbled forward and tripped, falling face-first onto the dirty frozen asphalt. She struggled to rise, but could not manage it with her hands tied behind her back. As she finally managed to sit up, a heavy boot kicked her in the face, and she fell once again, this time landing on her back.

Elena cursed herself again for getting into this situation. With Reno acting like a stubborn asshole again, she had stepped outside to get away from him, and the next thing she knew, the four Vice members were upon her. They had tied up her hands and taken to Midgar's Sector Three to show her to their leader. And as much as she hated being rescued, Elena had to admit that, without any help, there was no chance of escape.

"So you're the ones who've been shooting down my men. The famous Turks! Well, bitch, you better face it, Shinra is dead and so are you!" The man who had spoken hit Elena across the face with his fist, causing blood to trickle out of her mouth and nose. Elena looked up at him for the first time and recognized him. Stocky and muscular, Kotch had been a lackey of the notorious rapist Don Corneo. She shuddered to think of the time she had almost fallen prey to that vile man's advances. Corneo was dead now, by Reno's hand, but she would not have thought his second capable of continuing his work, much less taking control of a notorious gang and conquering half of Midgar. Shade's covered Kotch's eyes, and his dark skin contrasted sharply with his blonde Mohawk.

"You should have never come back here," Kotch continued. "'Cause now you're gonna have to die." He pulled a machine gun from under his vest and pointed it Elena, but then paused. "On second thoughts, you're a fine looking young woman. I'm a busy man myself, but I can give my men some satisfaction for a change." Then he turned to his cronies. "Do what you like to her. When you're done, kill her." So saying, he shoved her forward into the crowd of men, who yelled raucously and began closing in around her. Kotch turned and began to walk away.

"You can't do this to me! I'm a Turk!" Elena shouted desperately. Kotch smiled faintly.

"Survival of the fittest, woman," he said, and walked away.

The gangsters leapt at Elena and began to tear away at her neat blue suit, while she struggled futilely, kicking at those who got close. But just when the first man grabbed a firm hold of her, he fell dead with a strangled cry. A second gunshot sounded and another man tumbled over beside her. The gangsters turned around to see Rude, holding a pistol in each hand. And as they rushed towards him, Reno stepped out from behind a wall, firing bolts of electricity from his favorite weapon, the electromag rod. Taking advantage of the distraction, Elena ran to a nearby window and cut the rope binding her hands on the broken glass. She picked up a knife from a dead gangster and stabbed one of her assailants in the back. Just as she was about to take a second jab, she saw a shape looming up behind Reno. Thinking fast, she hurled the knife, landing it directly between the man's eyes. Although the gangsters completely outnumbered them, the Turks had them surrounded, and the battle was over in no time.

Reno approached her, and instead of thanking her for just saving his life, simply remarked,

"That's the third time we've had to rescue you. You're starting to make it a habit. A Turk should be better at defending herself." Elena was outraged, but held her tongue.

"Kotch got away," she said instead. "He was their leader."

"Fuck Kotch," Reno replied. "We're getting out of this dump tomorrow. For now, get your shit together and get some rest. We'll steal a plane from the Sector Six Airport." He then seemed to see her for the first time since her capture. Her suit had been torn badly by the gangsters, exposing patches of skin. "You're fine, you know that?" he said, before walking away, leaving her and Rude to hurry after him. Elena doubted she would ever understand what went through Reno's mind. Catching up to him, she asked,

"So, where exactly are we going?"

Reno replied with one word.

"Nibelheim."


	5. Chapter 4: Into the Canyon

Chapter Four: Into the Canyon

Several hours later, the camp stirred with excitement as the men came out onto the plain, eager to hear the plan of battle. Barret looked down at them with a scowl. Two hundred. Less than two hundred men, to fight an army more than twice their size. It was an impossible battle. But he had to keep up the morale of his men. Yuffie and Arapat were standing by his side, awaiting his command.

"Alright, everybody, listen up," Barret called out, and the crowd fell silent instantly. "We're gonna hit these bastards in the back as they head into the cliffs. They won't expect a back attack. We'll crush 'em completely." A cheer went up from the men, and it was all Barret could do to maintain a straight face. _Don't they know we're all just gonna die? _hethought angrily. He looked over at Arapat and saw only solemn determination in the other man's face. He knew the odds they fought against. But Yuffie looked almost impatient. _Impatient?_ Barret thought incredulously. _The girl must be insane! How could she be eager at a time like this?_

Again, Barret contemplated the disadvantages they had against these masked warriors. Not only were the Harad-Zun more numerous, they also had the advantage in skill. Barret suspected they must have undergone years of rigorous training, while many of his men had no experience in battle. They were armed with light assault rifles, which, while powerful, were useless in a hand to hand fight. The Cosmo Canyon men used spears and axes of various kinds, but they were not accustomed to warfare, and could not match up evenly to the warriors of the Harad-Zun.

Barret checked the stores of ammunition in his gun arm and found it properly loaded. He scowled at the sight of the materia orbs fastened into the sockets of the gun. They had been provided by Yuffie, who seemed to have an endless supply of the things, to himself and Arapat. But as much as Barret preferred a fair fight and disdained the use of Materia, he had to admit that they needed all the help they could get in this battle. Yuffie carried her large shuriken in one hand and a spare materia orb in the other, and Arapat clutched his spear tightly; both were ready for battle to begin. Barret sighed. He might as well give the order now.

"Everybody ready?" Barret asked, and was answered by a roar of enthusiasm from his audience. "Let's go then."

And they ran up the slopes, into the canyon.

Nanaki growled impatiently as he stood in the narrow pass that opened into the great caverns beyond. Ninety-three men stood nervously behind him, grasping their spears and axes tightly. Young Jorm from Gongaga was among them. Farther behind them, huddled in corners of the cavern, were the people of Cosmo Canyon and Gongaga: the very young, the very old, and those who could not fight. Mothers huddled their small children close to keep them from crying out, but the adults seemed on the verge of tears as well. They had been forced out of the town for the first time since it was founded, forced back into the caves once inhabited by the savage Gi tribe. The deepest caverns were still too dangerous to retreat to, leaving Nanaki and his men trapped. Now, it was only a matter of time before the Harad-Zun entered the caverns and found them. What worried Nanaki was that even after forcing them back into the caves, the Harad-Zun had not attacked. _Why don't they just finish it? _Nanaki wondered. _They must have found the passages by now and yet they are not attacking. It doesn't make sense._

Nanaki looked up once more, up at the ledge where a creature stood, encased in stone, head tilted up towards the moon. His father, Seto. Seto had given his life to save the town from the Gi warriors, holding this same pass long enough for Bugenhagen to seal the passage. And now Nanaki had failed his father and his people. Cosmo Canyon had fallen. But there was one last chance at redemption. He could hold the pass as his father once had, against hordes that vastly outnumbered his forces. Nanaki's crimson eyes flashed with an almost demonic fervor.

"I will not let you down, father," he whispered.

"Why must we fight so?" came the thin voice of Trogor, the elder of Gongaga, from beside him, and Nanaki spun around, startled. "They will overpower us; it is simply a matter of time. Why must we continue to shed blood?"

Nanaki looked over at him. Trogor was well over ninety years old, and an experienced leader. In his arms he clutched a huge blue crystal, and three more, these ones red, yellow, and green, were nestled in a small satchel slung over his shoulder. The huge materia, which Nanaki had given to Trogor for safekeeping. He would not leave them behind to be taken by the Harad-Zun. Nanaki turned his attention to what Trogor had said. The elder had a point. No matter what he did to prevent it, the Harad-Zun would kill them and take the materia. But he could not accept Trogor's reasoning.

"We want them to remember us," he replied. "They may kill us all and raze our homelands, but we will give them a fight to remember. By fighting, we make it easier for others to defeat them. I am not asking you to fight, elder, but we will not surrender our homeland."

But here Nanaki stopped, for he heard thuds in the distance. _So they've come at last, _he thought. None of the other men had heard yet; his ears picked up what others could not.

"Back to your positions, men. They are coming!" Nanaki yelled. _They have entered the cliffs,_ he thought grimly _All we can do now is wait._

Bursts of gunfire were the only sounds that reached Barret's ears as he blasted away at the enemy, empty shells falling to the ground from his gun. Although they had hit the forces of the Harad-Zun suddenly in the rear, the enemy regrouped quickly, and Barret and his men soon found themselves in a fight for their very lives. Gastor stood close by, firing away at the approaching enemies and slashing at those who came close. Barret had lost sight of Arapat and Yuffie long ago.

Not only did the Harad-Zun outnumber and outfight the invaders, they had some of their best riflemen perched on roofs and ledges, picking off Barret's forces one by one. Scowling, Barret focused on a materia orb in his gun, and shards off ice appeared in midair, transfixing three of the riflemen. But repeated materia use was taxing on Barret's energy, and he doubted he could keep fighting much longer.

Green-clothed warriors were everywhere, ripping through cloth and flesh alike with their massive blades. They were dropping like flies, mowed down by rapidly moving machine gun bullets or transfixed on spears. But at the same time, Barret's men were dying, hewn in two by the cleaving strokes of the cruel steel of their adversaries or picked off from above by the one remaining sniper, whom Barret could hit with neither magic nor bullets. The man darted nimbly out of the way of oncoming gunshots, returning fire from seemingly unreachable locations. And he never missed his mark. With each shot he fired, one of Barret's men fell to the ground dead.

Sweating heavily, Barret suddenly noticed that his gun had stopped firing. No more ammunition. And two Harad-Zun warriors, swords crimson with blood, had seen this, and charged towards him, blades whirling in a mesmerizing, deadly pattern.

"Damn!" Barret swore out loud. Pulling his heavy, useless gun arm backwards, he considered the situation quickly. _I'll just have to improvise,_ he resolved, and hurled himself, steel fist first, at the nearest attacker. There was a sickening crunch as the man's jaw splintered, and he was on the ground dead in an instant. But the second attacker had now reached Barret, who had no time to react. At the last second, Gastor turned and fired away in Barret's direction, and the Harad-Zun warrior fell dead only five feet away from Barret. Thinking quickly, Barret picked up an axe from a fallen warrior and jammed the end of the shaft into the barrel of his gun. Roaring angrily, he turned and swung his improvised weapon at a nearby enemy, who fell dead with one blow.

Barret could now see the tide of the Harad-Zun thinning, and the finishing blow came to the enemy when, in the midst of the battle, a woman appeared with a flash. Eight feet tall and slender, wearing flimsy silks robes over her pale blue skin, Shiva was clearly not human. As she spread her arms wide, fierce arctic winds whipped up around her, and many of the Harad-Zun died where they stood, their very blood frozen in their veins. This was all the prompting the remaining warriors needed, and they scattered, heading towards the cliffs. Shiva, her task completed, vanished as quickly as she had appeared. Yuffie walked casually over to Barret, with Arapat behind her. She held up a small red materia orb and winked at Barret, then said cheerfully,

"Well? What do we do now?" Barret had the sudden urge to strangle her. From what he could tell, over two-thirds of the men had been killed, and she was happy? But he refrained, and instead counted the remaining warriors, who were grouping around him. Forty-five, and Gastor was not among them. It was madness to continue, but it had to be done. Barret turned to the men wearily.

"There's bound to be lots of tunnels leading into the cliffs around here. Nanaki's in trouble, and we don't got time to wait. We're goin' in."

Nanaki's great fangs closed around the warrior's arm, and he collapsed on the ground with a howl of pain. Fresh gashes now marked his flanks, some bleeding heavily, but Nanaki fought on heedlessly. He could only see three of his men around him, fighting furiously against the enemy hordes, and then saw two of them go down. The battle would be over in minutes at this rate, and not for the better.

They had been overwhelmed completely by the Harad-Zun, pushed back into the main cavern in the first twenty minutes of the battle. Nanaki's men had soon disappeared in the swarm of invaders. But the crushing blow dealt to the warriors of the canyon was not what surprised Nanaki. No, it was the stroke of lightning that had appeared seemingly from nowhere and ripped through the chests four of Nanaki's men, killing them instantly. The Harad-Zun had somehow learned to use materia! With their apparent lack of technology, Nanaki would have deemed that impossible. From the rate at which the magic was being cast, Nanaki concluded that only one man could be using the materia. And he knew who that one man was.

Nanaki tried his best to defend against the attacks of the Harad-Zun leader, using walls of earth to counter lightning bolts, and bursts of fire against frozen projectiles. But doing this gave Nanaki no time to use offensive magic of his own. He was growing more exhausted with each spell he cast, and knew that he could not keep fighting for long. With each passing moment, he felt exhaustion seeping into him; his legs were on the verge of collapsing. Turning, Nanaki saw that he was completely surrounded by his enemies, who were cautiously closing in around him. They had seen what he had done to many of their companions, and were not willing to take any chances. But seeing his weariness, one warrior leapt forward, swinging his blade closer and closer. Nanaki knew he was finished.

The full moon shone brightly overhead, illuminating the petrified form of Seto. As Nanaki saw his father's silent form, his resolve hardened once again. _Father never gave up, not even on the verge of death. He held the canyon pass as long as he could, giving Bugenhagen time to seal the gateway. I can still stand and fight, if only to give Trogor and the others time to get away, time to hide._ Without a pause, he hurled himself at the man's ankles, ripping flesh and muscle away with his fangs and claws. The man fell, and died instantly, transfixed on his own sword. The other Harad-Zun warriors backed away warily, and that was all the hesitation Nanaki needed. Two small green spheres behind his ears suddenly glowed brightly as Nanaki did what he had never done before: he concentrated on both the fire and earth materia simultaneously and wove them together in his mind as one. All around him the ground surged and exploded in flames, sending dozens of enemy warriors flying into the air.

Nanaki saw some of his own men, about twenty, still alive and fighting, and the sight gave him strength. But suddenly, he felt immense pain as a shard of ice struck his right hind leg, burying itself deep beneath his skin. He looked up to see the Harad-Zun leader standing over him, laughing contemptuously.

"You never give up, do you? Can't you see the end is inevitable?" the man said. Growling, Nanaki tried to lunge at him, but the ice shard had speared directly above his hamstring, forcing him down. Instead he wove webs of fire around the man and drew them in, expecting even a colossus like him to be consumed by the flames. But as the inferno closed in around the man, he simply laughed, and emerged unharmed seconds later, crimson scales shinning brightly.

"I'm afraid it will take a little more than that to defeat me, Zarkhan, greatest warrior of the Harad-Zun. You really are quite blind, aren't you? Thinking you are the last of your race and a brave defender of this wretched hole you call home. But your biggest mistake was that you could not see the fate the only a blind man could miss. You are dead, Nanaki, you and your canyon both."

He paused though, for he too now heard the sound that had given Nanaki hope. The firing of machine guns, which none of Nanaki's men carried. Zarkhan turned to see many of his men, taken by surprise, being shot down from behind. _Arapat must have arrived with some reinforcements, _Nanaki realized, and, while his opponent was distracted, he launched himself forward with superhuman effort. The icicle inhibiting his leg's movement shattered as he pushed against it with all his might, and he flung himself onto Zarkhan, who hit the ground with a heavy crash.

"No," Nanaki growled at his fallen adversary. "It is you who made the biggest mistake. You brought your forces here, to the canyon, and tried to destroy us. For that you will die." Zarkhan grasped his blade tightly, and the green materia in one of its sockets began to glow brightly.

"This is not over," he said. A flash of blinding light filled the cavern and every living Harad-Zun instantly vanished. Nanaki blinked in astonishment. The spell that the man had just cast would teleport the user and a few others to a predetermined location. But Zarkhan had just used it on almost two hundred warriors. That was impossible! Nanaki had very little time to think about such things, for Arapat was approaching him with two others hurrying after him. Nanaki's eyes widened in disbelief at the sight of them.

"Hi, 'Naki," said Yuffie cheerfully.

"Good to see you made it," Barret remarked gruffly.

Nanaki shook his head, his mind filling with questions. They would have to wait.

"Let's go back to town," he said. "I'll hear all your stories there."

An hour later, Nanaki sat by the Cosmo Candle with Barret, Yuffie, and Arapat. Again, he went over their magnificent victory in the Canyon. So many small events had allowed him to live, but each was so crucial. If Yuffie had not been attracted by the glitter and allure of the Gold Saucer, for instance, both he and Barret would be dead.

But their victory over such stunning odds was not entirely a happy event. Of his three hundred Canyon warriors, only fifty-two still lived, and Barret's one hundred Corelian fighters now numbered twenty-three. No, it was not a time for rejoicing. Both the Canyon and Corel had suffered grievous wounds, and it would be a long time before they healed.

The Harad-Zun, however, had escaped, and the battle was not yet over. Zarkhan still had at least two hundred men, and, according to Barret and Yuffie, some kind of sniper. And Nanaki suspected that not all of the Harad-Zun had come to the canyon, and that Zarkhan actually had around five hundred warriors. But defending would not be enough this time. In order to truly vanquish the enemy, he had to strike at their base of operations, which meant a trip to Gongaga.

Barret was grimacing as he stared into the flames; apparently, the same thought had occurred to him as well. Nanaki cleared his throat and broke the tense silence that had settled over the group.

"They are not defeated yet. I have to strike back at them before they can regroup. And there's no need to get the men involved this time. I will go alone. With the aid of the huge materia, I should be able to defeat Zarkhan and find out what he wanted. Arapat, you and Trogor can watch the town while–"

"Whoa, hold on a second!" Barret interrupted suddenly. "You can't just take off like that, leavin' me behind! You gonna get killed! I'm coming with you, like it or not. When are we leavin'?"

Nanaki was about to reply, when Yuffie burst in angrily,

"You think that you two can just go off and have all the adventures and all the fun without me? Not while I have a say in it. I _will_ accompany you, even if it costs me my…my…" Yuffie paused, trying to think of a word strong enough. "Materia!" she finished finally.

Nanaki sighed with resignation as he realized there was no way to convince them otherwise.

"If you're sure about your decisions I will be honored to have you accompany me. However, I must warn you that it will be very dangerous."

Yuffie's contemptuous snort at the word "dangerous" was affirmation enough, so Nanaki continued.

"I suggest you all get a good night's sleep now. We will depart for Gongaga tomorrow." Not that there was much of a good night's sleep remaining; it was already around three in the morning.

As the others made their way back to the rooms he had provided, Nanaki gazed into the Cosmo Candle. He had grown up by it, listening to children's stories. He had decided to follow Bugenhagen into the haunted Gi caves by it. Even during the brief occupation of the town, the same flame that had burned for generations had not gone out. And now that he had stopped what was possibly the greatest threat the canyon had ever faced, here he was again. _But it isn't over,_ he reminded himself, remembering the rage and hatred in Zarkhan's eyes when he had knocked the man to the floor. _And it won't ever be until one of us is dead._

A rat scurried back and forth on the cold stone floor of the long, rectangular hall. This rat, although it was not aware of the fact, was about to experience the most awesome spectacle a member of its species had ever observed. Huge shinning beams of light suddenly arced across the chamber, and, when they dissipated, one hundred and ninety masked warriors stood in the center of the hall. Squeaking with fright, the rat darted into a small pile of sand in the corner of the room. A trickle more fell from a crack in the roof, thirty feet above, and settled on the floor.

Zarkhan strode angrily down the hall, leaving his warriors to their own devices. He had thought that a third of his warriors would be enough to finish the Canyon and its pathetic defenders, but it seemed he had been wrong. Five hundred men, nearly a quarter of his army, had been killed, and he could not strike again, for the defenders would surely be ready. But he would make them pay. The blood of five hundred warriors had painted the rocks of Cosmo Canyon, and for it, he would have the blood of a thousand of his enemies.

Zarkhan stepped through a stone arch, pushing aside the curtains, into his private quarters. He could think in there without being disturbed by his underlings. It was not that he felt this horrible defeat to be a threat to his authority. The men accepted him as their leader, knowing that he could outthink and outfight them all. It was his pride that had been injured. But he would redeem himself. He would be the one to slay Nanaki, one of the enemies of the planet. He would stop at nothing to slay the killer of the great Ruby Weapon.

Sighing, Zarkhan contemplated how he had ever got himself and the Harad-Zun involved in this. The foreigner had simply wandered into his quarters one day, and offered him a proposal. How the man had managed to find the fortress or slip past his guards, Zarkhan had no clue. But the offer seemed simple enough, and the rewards were substantial. They were to attack Cosmo Canyon and kill the defenders, who, as the outlander said, included one Nanaki, murderer of Ruby Weapon. Nanaki's appearance had surprised Zarkhan, for he had thought that Razak had been the last of his kind. It did not matter, though. Razak would be dealt with too some day. Once the defenders were dead, said the foreigner, who went by the name of Maxwell, the Harad-Zun were to bring back what he called "huge materia." If they served well, he would give them many materia crystals, including some which no man had ever used before. He had shown the truth of his word by supplying Zarkhan with one such materia already, the one that had just saved his life. Zarkhan doubted that Maxwell would be content to give him a second chance, though. _We'll just have to see,_ he thought with resignation, and sat down to await Maxwell's response.

Several hours later, the curtain over the door was pushed aside again as the Marksman entered, followed by Akhamir, Zarkhan's most trusted lieutenant. The Marksman's jet black battle scarf now hung loose around his neck, but he still wore his strange hardened leather armor. Few men had seen his face, and those who did were surprised at its youth, considering the skill and profession of the man on whose shoulders it rested. His slim build and brilliant blue eyes made it clear that he was not of Harad-Zun descent. In fact, he was the only outsider ever accepted into the tribe since its formation thirty years earlier. Nobody knew how he had found their base. It had been eight years ago now that he had entered the stronghold, bleeding heavily. He had muttered an unintelligible warning to Zarkhan himself before lapsing into a comma. Zarkhan was unsure what the fifteen year old lad had meant, but had been suddenly called into battle against a small patrol of blue clad soldiers who had stumbled across the stronghold. And Zarkhan realized that, without the boy's warning, members of the patrol would certainly have escaped to their superiors.

The boy, who never gave a name, was adopted as one of the Harad-Zun and introduced to their customs and ways. All they learned of his past was that his small tribe, in the nearby jungles of Gongaga, had been wiped out by a powerful empire called Shinra. He never said how he had found the Harad-Zun fortress, but nobody ever asked, primarily because of the weapon he brought them. The lad called it gunpowder, and the large black tube a rifle. Zarkhan had been skeptical at first, but after seeing the brute force of the things, had asked the boy to train his men in rifle use. Thereafter he had simply been called the Marksman for his extraordinary aim.

The Marksman's appearance also differed from the Harad-Zun in the hardened leather armor he wore. The common warriors of the Harad-Zun fought unarmored, the most rational way to fight. Normal armor, as every Harad-Zun warrior now knew, simply inhibited movement; one bullet to the head killed all men. The only exception was the armor of Zarkhan himself. He smiled as he remembered Nanaki's futile magic attack against his glistening plated armor. _The beast may have killed Ruby Weapon,_ he thought. _But as long as I live, the legacy continues._ He had made the journey alone, to the middle of the desert, to pay homage to its former king. And he swore that he would continue the legacy, continue to fight against the killers of the Weapon and the enemies of the planet. He had crafted from the gargantuan corpse a full suit of armor, nearly impervious to physical harm and immune to the effects of magic. Zarkhan snapped out of his memories at the sound of the Marksman's voice, which came without the Haradin accent he was accustomed to hearing.

"Maxwell came down by Helicopter to speak with me. He is not pleased by your failure, but says that you have one chance left. And he told me the plan. You must…"

Zarkhan's eyes widened in surprise as he listened to Maxwell's plan. He had no idea how the foreigner had learned so much about the origins of the Harad-Zun, but he had to admit that although the plan assumed several key events would occur, it could work. And if it did not, so be it. Zarkhan was willing to sacrifice all to avenge the death of Ruby Weapon.

"Are the warriors ready to leave?" he asked the Marksman, who nodded, and turned to leave the room. "By the way, Akhamir," Zarkhan continued, an idea popping into his head. "You will take the opportunity to visit our old friend Razak, won't you?" And the businesslike nod from his lieutenant made Zarkhan suddenly sure that the plan would be a success.

Shake squeezed through the crowded plaza and into a small alley between two houses. He sighed with vexation as he emerged onto a bustling walkway above a tranquil pond. As he struggled to move against the flow of the crowd, he often had to yell upwards at passerby to get their attention. By the time he reached his house near the Da-Chao gates he had almost collapsed with exhaustion.

"This would be so much easier if only I were taller!" he said aloud in frustration.

At age nineteen, Shake was still a mere four feet eight inches tall and looked about thirteen years old. He had been appointed one of Wutai's five great warriors at age twelve, and even now, seven years later, nobody took him seriously except for Godo, who went to the other extreme. Godo worked him as hard as all the others, although they had trained for much longer than he had. But none of them, try as they might, could ever hit him. Dodging blows was Shake's specialty.

Whenever he went to dine at the Turtle's Paradise, Shake had to shout at waiters before they would take his order, which was precisely why he had decided to dine at home for a change. He pulled out of his backpack the small paper tray in which the simple rice meal he had ordered to go was packed. _God, I'm hungry,_ Shake realized as his stomach growled audibly, anticipating the meal to come. And he proceeded to gulp it all down.

With a contented sigh, Shake flung himself back onto his couch, then frowned, for he suddenly felt a slight tingling in his arms. As he tried to determine what the matter was, it only got worse. Shake decided to go to the kitchen and drink a cup of water, and then perhaps lie down for a while. Pushing himself off the couch, he walked a few wobbly steps before collapsing suddenly on the carpeted floor. His stomach churned incessantly and his legs felt swollen and rigid. He tried in vain to cry for help; the window was open; somebody was bound to hear. The words never left his mouth, though, trapped inside by a parched and swollen throat. Shake struggled to reach the door, groping across the floor with his hands, as his remaining energy began to seep out of him. He gasped for breath as his throat blocked up and his consciousness began to dim. Shake's last thought was that somebody must have poisoned his food in the crowded restaurant. _But who? _he wondered._ And why?_


	6. Chapter 5: Strife

Chapter Five: Strife

The crowds milled around the expansive Shinra plaza, dozens of spectators flocking in with each passing minute. Already the square was packed, leaving hardly any room for movement, and latecomers had to crane their necks to see over the heads of their companions, and struggle to hear through the commotion. Hotels on the borders of the plaza were renting out balconies to give those willing to pay a better view. News helicopters wheeled above like vultures searching for the right moment to strike their wounded prey. Stores throughout the city had been closed hurriedly, and their owners had scrambled frantically to the plaza in hopes of getting ideal positions. And all eyes in the courtyard were locked on one massive object standing in the center of the Shinra building's entrance courtyard, covered by a large black cloth. Tourists from as far away as Wutai had come to attend the event, eagerly peering over the heads of fellow onlookers, holding up cameras in hopes of catching a snapshot of the unveiling. The commotion in the plaza surged tremendously as a small party of men and women stepped out of the Shinra building's front entrance and came to a halt in front of the covered monument.

Cid drew a deep breath as he approached the monument with Shera to his right and Schwartzberg to his left. The tension was reaching its climax now, a rubber band strung to breaking point. And he was not the only one who felt it. Standing just to the left of Schwartzberg, Alex Preston shifted nervously. At the far left side of the line, Cloud's hands clenched instinctively around a nonexistent sword hilt. Tifa patted his arm reassuringly, but her face was troubled. Judy Adams, standing to Reeve's left, glanced up and down the square frantically. Shera could sense it too, though she did not want to admit it; Cid could see it in her eyes. And Anton von Schwartzberg stared into space, frowning worriedly. In fact, the only one who did not seem bothered was James Warrington, who stood between Tifa and Adams. He looked just as relaxed as he had been earlier. And Reeve, of course, whose glare was as cold as ice. _What's wrong with the man? _thought Cid. _His behavior is just not human._ Cid noticed a row of Soldiers standing several yards behind them, awaiting a command. Had Cloud positioned them there because he suspected something? Or was this Reeve's doing? But Cid had no time to contemplate the matter further, for Reeve's voice cut through the noise of the crowd like a razor, amplified by carefully positioned loudspeakers. The crowd fell silent instantly.

"I would like to thank all of you for being here tonight. This is a most memorable experience for me, as I hope it will be for all of you. But before the monument is unveiled, I would like to give my respects to a few people. First, I would like to thank my fellow adventurers, who saved this planet from Meteor seven years ago. Unfortunately, they could not all be here with us today, but my thanks goes out to them anyways." Cid noticed a murderous flash in Reeve's eyes at these seemingly friendly words. "Second, I would like to thank the members of my administration, who have volunteered selflessly to work hours on end to make this city better for all of us." _Sure, why don't you just say "volunteered,"_ Cid thought bitterly. "Lastly, I would like to thank you, the hardworking citizens of Neo-Midgar, for keeping the city prosperous and clean. Now, without further ado, I give you the monument." He gestured to two assistants beside the statue, who pulled down on nearby ropes, unveiling it and revealing a spectacular sight.

An enormous golden sculpture of the planet, over thirty feet tall, stood on the pedestal, with every detail carefully carved into it. Seeping from the gigantic rift atop the planet was the Lifestream, and around the base of the sculpture stood life-size golden statues of the party of eight who had defeated Sephiroth that day, staring out at the audience triumphantly. Cid was blown away by the size and splendor of the memorial, and he was not easily astonished by displays of wealth. He had expected something extravagant, but not _that_ extravagant. From the expressions of his companions, he could tell that they were astonished as well, all save Preston, who had known what was coming, and seemed quite pleased by the reaction. The crowd was silent in awe for one moment, and then burst into applause. Cid could not hear the roar of the engines of the hovering helicopters, or the words Cloud was saying to Tifa only a few feet away, but he heard one sound: the sound of a gunshot from across the square. And, just five feet to his left, Alex Preston collapsed to the ground, a bullet through his forehead.

For a seemingly endless instant there was no sound other than the thud of Preston's lifeless body hitting the ground. Then chaos erupted. Spectators struggled to find a way out of the square, trying to escape before something even worse happened. Recovering from shock, Cid said quietly to Shera,

"Run back to the room and lock the door. Don't let anyone in." Shera hesitated. "Run, goddamn it, woman!" He shouted, abandoning all tact. "Can't you see it's dangerous?" Her face a picture of fright, Shera darted up the steps towards the Shinra building. Reeve regained his stony composure in an instant and turned to the guards.

"That bullet was meant for me. One of them is responsible," he said with a gesture in the direction of Cid and the others. "Don't let any of them get away." Most of the Soldiers advanced towards them, but a handful began to follow Shera. The men were trained runners, and Cid could see that they would overtake her in no time.

Cid's hand flew up instantly as he concentrated on the green orb tucked into a socket in his spear. The Soldiers chasing Shera found their path blocked by an invisible wall. Almost at the same time Cloud preformed the same motion, placing a barrier between the Soldiers and his companions. The two men exchanged glances; both knew that they could not maintain their walls of force much longer. The Soldiers knew it too, and were patiently waiting for the barriers to dissipate. There was not much time to think.

"Run!" Cloud shouted to Tifa and the others, and they hardly needed prompting, dashing towards nearby streets. Cid waited for Shera to disappear into the building before nodding grimly at Cloud and releasing his barrier. Without a backwards glance, he turned and ran after the others. Cloud too let go of his shield and followed him. As they reached the edge of the square, Cid paused momentarily and concentrated on another materia orb. The orb glowed brightly, and a bolt of lightning darted down from the clear sky and struck the ground directly in front of the Soldiers, flinging chunks of stone into the air. _That should delay them a little,_ he thought, and hurried after Cloud.

Cid did not know how long he followed Cloud, who in turn had his eyes locked on Tifa and the others. They doubled back on their path, changing directions at every turn, until, after what seemed like an eternity, they came to a stop, exhausted, in the middle of an empty street. Tifa ushered them into the lobby of a nearby apartment building, locking the door behind her. It was a spacious room, though rather unfurnished, with a back exit to an alleyway on the opposite wall.

"So what the hell are we supposed to do now?" Warrington asked, his neat black suit now in a state of disarray. Though he no longer seemed relaxed, he was still much calmer than any of the others. Schwartzberg wore an expression of sheer terror, and Adams looked both angered and frightened. Cloud opened his mouth to speak, but Adams cut him off.

"I don't have time for this," she said angrily. "I can take care of myself. I don't need you telling me what to do." She stormed out through the back door and slammed it shut behind her. _What the hell was that all about?_ Cid wondered. _Losing a position as a highly paid Shinra executive would piss anyone off, but she was more angry than frightened._ But there was no time to worry about Adams's emotions. She had to be stopped before she got herself killed.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" He said aloud. "Somebody's got to go after her!" Seeing nobody else moving, Cid stood up and began to walk towards the door. Surprisingly, Cloud stopped him.

"No, Cid. As heartless as it sounds, we've got to stick together. We can only hope that she escapes. There's no point in having two get captured if one can escape."

Cid had to admit that there was logic in Cloud's point; they were all safer as a group. But as he sat back down, Cid spotted a flashlight beam through the murky windows, moving rapidly across the street.

"Shit!" he swore, as he leapt to his feet. "They've found us. Let's go!" Without a moment's hesitation he darted through the back door into a narrow alley. As Cloud slammed the door behind them, Cid heard a thud as the Soldiers rammed into the front door. It would not hold long, and after that, their enemies would be upon them. Cid skidded around a corner into another wide street, with Tifa and Schwartzberg right behind him. He was surprised that the old man could keep up such a pace; he had clearly never run so hard in his life. Just as they approached the next intersection, a group of Soldiers ran out into the road ahead, cutting them off. He heard the triumphant cries of the patrol behind them. They were trapped. It did not look like the Soldiers were going to take them prisoners either, from the cruel grins on their faces as they unsheathed their swords.

Cid drew in a deep breath. One option remained, but it would put his life and those of his companions in peril. But as he watched the Soldiers slowly closing in around them, Cid made up his mind. _We're all in peril anyways. Fuck it._ The green glow of his lightning materia grew brighter as Cid drew on more of its energy than he ever had before. The torrent of magic was wrenched from his control, and the glowing orb fell to the ground. And the storm struck, blasting the buildings and streets all around him with bolts of electricity. Cid's energy had been drained completely, but he knew he had to get out of the street. Gathering his remaining strength, he threw himself to the left into a narrow alley, flinging his spear in front of him, and rolling forward as he hit the ground. Scooping up the Venus Gospel, he ran, faster than he ever had before. He hoped that the others escaped, but could not stop to look back, for he heard the sound of heavy boots pounding behind him. All he could do was run.

Tifa held her fists in front of her warily, her eyes locked on the slowly advancing row of Soldiers. Turning, she saw Cloud and Warrington, getting ready to defend themselves from the pursuing Soldiers. Cid stood in the middle of the street with his head bowed, clenching his spear tightly. Tifa's eyes widened as she saw the materia on which he was concentrating. It was growing brighter by the second, and looked about to burst open. Time seemed to slow down, and Tifa saw the materia crystal, pulsing with energy, slip from its socket and begin to fall. Pulling Schwartzberg behind her, she flung herself into a side street, while Soldiers charged towards her triumphantly, their swords raised. In its unstable state, the orb shattered as it struck the ground, and a storm broke over the street. The charging Soldiers were felled in seconds, doomed by their steel armor. Tifa looked out into the street frantically. Bodies of Soldiers covered the square, but there was no sign of Cid. Suddenly, a crash of falling masonry sounded from the street to her right, where the pursuing Soldiers were. Where Cloud was. Tifa's breath caught in her throat, and she darted into the now quiet street, but all she could see was smoke and rubble.

"Look out!" came Schwartzberg's feeble voice from behind her. Startled, Tifa stepped backwards, narrowly avoiding the sweep of a Soldier's blade. She was reminded harshly of the skill and training of the first class Soldiers as the man changed his unsuccessful sweep into a powerful jab at her left shoulder. But Tifa had undergone years of training as well, and swiftly turned her body to avoid the blow, striking the man hard in his exposed ribs. He went down with a grunt, unconscious. Instantly, she turned and delivered a powerful side kick to a second Soldier, who was about to bear his sword down on Schwartzberg. She held out her hand to the scientist, who lay on the floor stunned, and pulled him to his feet.

"Come on. We've got to get to safety," she said. But here she paused, and once again scanned the area where Cloud, Warrington, and the Soldiers had stood only moments earlier. Nothing. With what seemed like a superhuman effort, Tifa wrenched her eyes away. She hated herself for leaving Cloud, but knew that she was responsible for Schwartzberg's safety. Tifa became aware that he was waiting for her lead.

"Let's go," she said, as she took a deep breath, and pointed forward into the small street. This part of Neo-Midgar was foreign to Tifa, and she realized that she had no idea where the street would lead. _Still, wherever it goes, it's bound to be safer than here,_ she resolved. But all thoughts of her destination vanished as she saw two Soldiers running up the alley towards them. Soldiers had doubtlessly converged on the site of the storm, and turning back was clearly suicidal. Tifa's only choice was to fight. The alley was cramped, and the Soldiers, armed with blades similar to Cloud's, had a longer reach and therefore the upper hand. She motioned for Schwartzberg to stay back, and simply did what they would not expect: she leapt forward. The Soldiers, taken completely by surprise, had no time to strike before Tifa's foot struck the first man's jaw, sending him sprawling. But just as she brought her foot down, the second man lashed out at her leg with his sword, and she fell to the ground with a cry. She looked up to see his sword swinging down at her, leaving her no time to react.

And the man tumbled to the floor unconscious. Tifa looked up and saw Cid standing in front of her, the butt of his spear resting against the unconscious Soldier's head, looking down grimly.

"That'll bring him a lot of pain, but it won't be fatal. If we ever want to convince Reeve that we're innocent, we should avoid killing his men. You okay?" Wiping the blood from her leg, Tifa stood up cautiously and realized that the blade had not cut deep.

"I'll be fine," she said, and looked over at Schwartzberg, who had come towards them.

"I think we best get going," he said, peering anxiously over his shoulder. "They will be here very soon."

Tifa realized that she was looking at Cid, waiting for his decision, and noticed Schwartzberg doing the same. Perhaps it was because Cid had taken charge of the group during Cloud's coma. But she had been looking after Cloud at the time, and only knew of Cid's leadership from Barret's description. Cid just seemed to have an air of command about him. _That's odd,_ she thought. _He didn't strike me as a leader before. Clearly, a lot has changed._

Cid peered into another alley, and then disappeared into it, beckoning for them to follow. Right and left he led them, through twisting mazelike streets, skillfully avoiding the Soldiers searching the city. Twice they were forced to hide in doorways and behind dumpsters as helicopters patrolled the skies above, searchlights scouring the streets for any sign of the fugitives. At last Cid stopped, motioning for them to be silent, as they looked out over the Shinra plaza. _God, he knows this city better than I do,_ Tifa thought, astounded. Neo-Midgar was not an easily navigable city. It was easy to get lost for hours in its many streets, let alone its alleys, but Cid had found his way back to the city center in less than half an hour.

"Shit!" Cid cursed under his breath as he scanned the square, and Tifa could hardly resist doing the same. A row of Soldiers stood guard in front of the Shinra building, motionless. It would be nearly impossible to get through. Slipping through the shadows along the wall, Cid led them silently to the other side of the square, from where Tifa's house was easily accessible. Tifa let out a long breath as they reached the street on the other side. Apparently, they had not been seen. Wrenching his eyes away from the impassable square, Cid turned to Tifa.

"The going shouldn't be so tough from here. Go with Schwartzberg and find somewhere safe to hide. I'm going to see Shera." Tifa moved forward to stop him.

"But how? There's no way you're ever going to get in there unnoticed." Cid's voice grew angry.

"I know a way, okay? Trust me. Now go!" Tifa spared one final glance for Cid as he walked into the square, into plain view of the Soldiers, before running alongside Schwartzberg into the darkness.

Private Turner of the Shinra Military Police strained to get a good view of the man walking into the square. Was he one of the ones they were supposed to catch? If so, he was a complete idiot for walking right into plain view. Whoever he was, the man certainly had no business approaching the building. The private found himself hungry once again, and sighed impatiently. He had never been promoted further for that reason; his insatiable appetite kept him perpetually over the weight limit. He had only remained in the service in the first place because of his wealthy uncle, who worked in Shinra's science department. Turner grudgingly drew himself back to the present. He raised his assault rifle and aimed it at the man, then blinked uncertainly as a green flash filled the square. Turner squinted through drooping eyelids at the man, who was still walking towards him. _Did that man just flash green?_ he wondered. _Probably my imagination._ _God, I hate the night shift. So…Tired._ Turner yawned widely, and the rifle fell from his pudgy fingers and clattered on the floor below. But he was too exhausted to notice, and his mind began to wander. _What was I thinking about again? Oh yes, that man…If I turn my head to the left, he kinda looks like a pie…mmmmm…pie……_ And Turner drifted off into a deep and pleasant sleep. Walking through the row of sleeping MPs, the man stepped through the door into the Shinra building, the green glow of a materia orb in his spear slowly fading.

Judy Adams strode angrily through the Shinra building's wide, uniform corridors. _I was lucky to even get inside,_ she thought, trying to calm herself, but to no avail. _Life was supposed to be easier for me after tonight. And this is not easier!_ She caught a glimpse of an adjacent street, fifty three stories below, through a great glass window to her right. Blue-armored Soldiers ran back and forth, reminding her of just how narrowly she had escaped capture. Just as she had slipped through the gates of the Shinra building and hid herself awkwardly beneath a desk, a group of MPs had rushed to guard the entrance of the building. The others would have a hard time getting into the building, which suited her just fine. The more Soldiers chased them around the city, the less she would have to deal with. What did not suit her fine was the way events had turned out at the unveiling.

Judy heaved a sigh of relief as she reached her destination without interference from the guards. 'Storage room number fourteen' read the label on the door. A machine on the wall beeped once, prompting identification. Fumbling through her pockets for her keycard, she finally produced it, and slid it into the slot. A light flashed green, and Judy heard the sound of a latch opening. As the director of city management, she had always had access to the many storage rooms in the Shinra building, but had never visited any of them until a week ago, in response to a cryptic note she had received from an anonymous source.

She did not know how in the world the man had discovered her thoughts. She had certainly never publicized them, and in fact she first had them only a few days before she received the message. It was then that Reeve's leadership abilities began to plummet. The same man who had revived Shinra from its deathbed had become a mere shadow of himself, wallowing in self pity. And she was the only one who saw it, the only one who knew that he would surely destroy the company he had worked so hard to rebuild if he kept acting the way he was. She had tried to reason with him, to lead him back to the man he used to be, but her efforts were futile. She knew he would continue with his insane, impossible orders until death took him. And just three days after she first realized this, she had found a neatly printed note in her coat pocket. 'The weight of a continent cannot be properly supported by a frayed rope,' the note had read, 'But I have heard that stronger rope is kept inside Shinra's fourteenth storage room.' Inside the room she had found the hired killer, for she was sure that was his occupation, masked from head to toe in midnight black. He had the air of a professional assassin, one who would get the job done quickly without getting caught. Reeve and Preston had been standing side by side, close enough to justify an error, but not with the level of skill this man possessed. No, he would not have missed his target unless it was deliberate, unless somebody else had ordered him to, and that was what truly worried her.

Judy took a deep breath and pulled a small pistol from her pocket. The man was an infinitely better shot than she, but if she surprised him, she might be able to corner him and find out his other employer. She was sure he would be in the room; they had discussed returning there for his payment after the deed was done. Waiting no longer, she pushed open the door, gun held out in front of her. Darkness filled the room, and turning on the lights would ruin what surprise advantage she still had. She stepped forward silently, trying in vain to see through the blackness around her, ears straining for the slightest sound. But as she proceeded through the room, not catching any clue to the man's whereabouts, fear began to turn to uncertainty. Perhaps he was not in the room after all. Perhaps he had fled the city after disobeying her orders. Perhaps the Soldiers had caught him. Perhaps—

All thoughts disappeared from her head as the floor rushed to meet her. Landing with a thud, the first thing Judy felt was immense pain in the back of her head. She lay still for a moment, startled, considering her options. Light flooded the chamber and she heard footsteps drawing closer. _He doesn't know about the gun,_ she thought. _I still have one trick up my sleeve._ Instantly, she flipped over onto her back, her gun aimed directly at the assassin's face. But he hardly blinked, and simply reached forward, wrenched the gun from her hand, and tossed it across the room. In his other hand he clutched a gun of his own, a long barreled marksman's weapon. Judy found herself looking at him in shock. He looked more like an wealthy businessman than a professional assassin, neat blonde hair framing an arrogant face with startlingly blue eyes.

"How are you doing today?" he asked sardonically, a mocking smile appearing on his lips. "I'm afraid I was not able to introduce myself the last time we met. My name is Warren Maxwell, and I'd like to thank you for your cooperation. Your assistance will be required, of course, for what will now follow."

Mustering the courage to speak, Judy burst out angrily,

"I know the missed shot at the unveiling was intentional. Tell me who else is employing you, or I'll…turn you in!"

Maxwell's lips twitched with amusement.

"Calm down, woman. Everything is going according to plan. Whose plan, at this stage, is not important. What is important is that you follow my directions. Frankly, I don't believe you are in the position to give anybody, least of all me, to the authorities, considering that you are on the run from them yourself. You commissioned me to kill Reeve in the first place; to turn me in now would be suicide for you. Your very survival depends on me at the moment. As for the plan, you will know your own instructions and nothing more. In his present state, Reeve can be manipulated, and an attractive young woman should be able to do so easily. It would be beneficial for both of us if Reeve believed the assassination to be the work of another. And you, as the one who finds the killer, will become one of his most trusted confidents. Do I make myself clear?" Judy nodded numbly. "Good. I will give you further instructions tomorrow. Now if you'll excuse me, I have other business to attend to."

As Maxwell walked out the door, Judy had to admit that his plan was masterfully thought out. Playing on Reeve's instability and paranoia was a much safer route to power than assassinating him. And, though she did not like the sound of them, she would have to follow his orders. There was no way out; her survival was now strongly bound to his. And what scared Judy most was that she still did not know exactly what Maxwell wanted.

Tifa stopped in front of her house, out of breath, with Schwartzberg at her side. The night had grown considerably colder, and Tifa unlocked the door hurriedly, eager for the warmth that waited inside. As she ushered Schwartzberg inside, Tifa looked around the house. Her living room greeted her with the comforting illusion of stability. Everything was just as it had been when she had left, only several hours earlier, but outside, everything had changed. She had to find Cloud, had to take him away from the danger. _But how, when the danger could be inside him?_ she could not help thinking, and instantly suppressed the thought. Tifa pulled herself out of her thoughts harshly. Cloud was somewhere on the streets of Neo-Midgar, and he needed her to stop him from making a terrible decision. And the longer she waited, the less likely it was she would reach him in time.

"You'll be safe here," she told Schwartzberg, sliding open a small panel in the wall. He gasped audibly, clearly surprised at the hidden storage space. It had not been designed as a refuge, just to blend in with the architecture, and it did that masterfully. But it was spacious enough for several men, and nearly impossible to find, making it the safest spot in Neo-Midgar that Tifa knew of. Nobody except herself and Cloud knew of its existence, for they only stored in it the things they no longer used, but wanted to save.

Schwartzberg disappeared into the storage room, and Tifa shut the door firmly behind him. _He's safe now. There is nothing stopping me from finding Cloud._ Hurriedly locking the front door, Tifa ran out into the biting cold. She did not have time to stop for anybody else. The snow, which had ceased to fall earlier that afternoon, had picked up again, and flakes were falling from the sky, landing in Tifa's hair. But she did not care. _Oh God, please let me find him before it's too late. _But somehow, Tifa already knew that she would not.

Cloud paused for breath as he turned a corner, but began running again almost immediately, the pursuing Soldiers' footsteps only thirty feet behind. Warrington ran ahead of him, coattails flapping in the wind. Soft flakes of snow drifted gently to the ground, belying the frantic scrambling of Soldiers and fugitives alike. As he ran forward, Cloud recalled the events that had led to his separation from the others. Soldiers had spilled out into the street ahead of him, and the ones behind him were catching up. And just as he thought he was trapped, a lightning storm struck the street, throwing the Soldiers into chaos. In the confusion, he snatched a sword from a dead Soldier and darted into an alley, from where he surveyed the street. Shattered rubble was everywhere, and so were the bodies of unlucky Soldiers, whose metal armor had attracted the lightning like a beacon.

Cloud had looked down at the Soldier's blade he had almost unconsciously picked up. It had been seven years, but his hands had clenched the hilt instinctively. He shook his head. He had sworn to leave that life behind, but now it seemed he had no choice. Grimacing, Cloud stood up and started down the street, for he had heard another band of Soldiers, several blocks away, moving rapidly towards him. He had met Warrington at an intersection, but had no time to stop, as they were both being pursued.

Warrington rounded another corner and Cloud followed, Soldiers in close pursuit. He could not see far through the snowy mist, and did not see the great brick wall looming up in front of him until it was too late. Triumphant cries echoed from behind; apparently the Soldiers knew they were cornered.

"Well, Strife, now we can see what you're made of," Warrington said. Smiling, he pulled a gun from his coat and began to fire away at the Soldiers. Automatically, Cloud slid the sword from his back and held it in front of his chest. _Once a killer, always a killer,_ he thought grimly, as the first Soldier ran towards him, sword arm outstretched. It did not look like he was going to show any mercy. Seven years without practice were overcome by the diligent hours Cloud had spent training as he swung his blade smoothly upwards in a deadly arc, parrying his opponent's blow, and then bringing the sword down on the man's head, ending his life in an instant. Another Soldier had run up to him, but Cloud was prepared. Flashing, the sword cut through the air, decapitating the advancing man. Cloud did not see their faces, or the bloody corpses he had created as the bodies of people, of human beings. Years of experience in battle had hardened him, steeled his spirit against fear of delivering death. And he could not allow all that work to amount to nothing. He could not let fear and weakness overcome him. Aeris had already died because on that day, back in the old city of Midgar, he had not had the strength to send her home, to keep her out of the fight. And he would not let the same thing happen to Tifa.

The bodies of Soldiers now filled the street, some hacked to death by the merciless steel of Cloud's sword, and others shot down as they ran by Warrington. As the last man tried to flee from the alley, a gunshot sounded, and the man let out a strangled cry and fell to the ground.

"Not bad," Warrington said, and Cloud glanced at him suspiciously. _What is the man doing with a gun anyways?_ he thought. _And how did he get to be such a good shot?_ But challenging Warrington now could leave one of them dead, and Cloud could not risk that. _Tifa is still out there somewhere,_ he reminded himself, _I've got to find her. We're no longer being followed; nothing's stopping me. I'll make my way back to where we were separated. She's got to be around there somewhere._ But just as he stepped out of the dead end street, Cloud cursed audibly. For several blocks away, the heavy footsteps of Soldiers were growing louder.

"Never a goddamn dull moment. Let's get going."

As Cloud followed Warrington down another alley, he noticed that they were not returning to the point of separation, but moving away from it. It did not matter now, though. His first priority was getting away from the Soldiers. Finding Tifa would be of help to her if he brought the Shinra down upon her as well.

From the small alley they burst out into what normally would have been a busy intersection. The crossing was abandoned now, for civilians all over the city had hurriedly returned to their homes. A small island of concrete separated the lanes, and as Cloud sprinted towards an alley on the other side, he suddenly stopped. For alone in the grey world of Neo-Midgar was a tiny basket of spring flowers, abandoned by its owner on that tiny patch of concrete. "1 Gil a Flower" was scrawled almost illegibly on a piece of cardboard lying next to the basket. Though snow was gently drifting onto the flowers, they still appeared as fresh as unpicked ones. Instantly Cloud thought of Aeris. It had been at a similar intersection that they first met, and it appeared a flower seller frequented this street as well. And as soon as the thought of Aeris entered his head all others vanished: of Warrington, of the Soldiers, and even of Tifa. For suddenly a vision of Aeris flashed in Cloud's head, filling him with hope. _She's alive, somewhere, somehow, to the west. I have to find her._

Out of the corner of his eye, Cloud saw Warrington spare him one last glance before disappearing into the alley, but he did not care. The Soldiers burst into the street from the other side, encouraged by the sight of only one man, standing in the center of the street with his head bowed, who seemed not to even notice their arrival. But as they surged forward confidently, Cloud's head snapped up, and his sword was ready in his hands. _They are merely obstacles,_ boomed a voice in Cloud's head. Aeris's voice. _I am waiting for you. Kill them._ One by one the Soldiers fell as Cloud's sword cut great bloody swathes through their ranks. He did not hear their shrieks of pain, only the voice that echoed in his mind. And as the last man died, blood gushing from a hole in his chest, the bloody blade fell from Cloud's hands. _I'll need better than that for a journey of this kind. I need to prepare._ He walked off down the street, leaving the scene of the slaughter behind. And as snow began to settle over the freshly butchered corpses, the vivid spring flowers in the basket wilted and died.

Cid walked through the corridors of the Shinra building's thirty-second floor with a mixture of anger and anxiety. _Shera better have taken my advice,_ he thought, both worrying about and fuming at his wife. _Can't she see it's dangerous? Damnit, that woman has no common sense!_ All had gone smoothly after he had entered the building; clearly, Reeve had thought the incompetent bastards at the door would keep them out. As he approached the door to Shera's room, Cid paused, and then decided to knock on the door with the butt of his spear. It made a distinctly different sound than a fist, and Shera was sure to recognize it; he used it often enough back home. But when he knocked on the apparently locked door, standing several feet away, it slowly opened inward. Hardly daring to breathe, Cid gazed through the open doorway and saw Shera, lying motionless atop a bloodstained mattress.

Cid's mind raced as he attempted to sort out what had just happened. _The assassin must still be in the room,_ he realized, and threw himself to the side just as a man stepped out from behind the door and fired three times into the wall where Cid had stood only moments before. As the assassin stepped out into the hallway to fire again, Cid got his first clear glimpse of the man. He was in his thirties, wearing a neat black suit, blonde hair waving as he scowled and fired twice more with his long-barreled pistol. Cid rolled to the right, avoiding his shots, and then leapt forward with a snarl while his enemy reloaded. He would not allow Shera's killer to live. _But I have to find out why,_ he reminded himself. "_Why" can just fucking wait in line until I get my revenge,_ he resolved, as he reached jabbing range of the assassin. With a roar, he brought the spear down, only to meet an invisible wall of force. His adversary smiled arrogantly at him, and Cid noticed three materia orbs in the sockets of the man's gun, two familiar green ones and one odd violet colored crystal, the like of which Cid had never seen before. But none of them were glowing with the familiar light of activation. Cid followed the man's gaze to his own spear, where he saw the impossible: his barrier orb had been activated by his opponent.

The two men stood in an uneasy stalemate, not one foot of distance between them. The assassin could not maintain the barrier for much longer, but if he dropped it, both of them would die. The man clearly did not want that to happen, but Cid was not afraid to risk it all. At last Cid's opponent came to a decision, tumbling backwards as he released the barrier, and firing as he rolled. Cid felt the bullet fly past, barely an inch from his face, as he sidestepped and hurled the spear as hard as he could at the man's gun arm. The spear struck only an inch from its goal, but that made all the difference. It slashed lightly across the man's arm, pinning his coat sleeve to the wall behind. As Cid leapt forward to deliver the kill, the man tore himself from the wall, blasting at Cid's fingers as they closed around the spear's hilt. Cid winced with pain and barely kept himself from crying out as his fourth and fifth fingers on his right hand were destroyed by the blast. But he clutched the spear tightly and lunged again towards his enemy, who now stood directly in front of a great glass window overlooking the streets of Neo-Midgar. The man did what Cid would never have expected; he threw himself backwards through the window, hands shielding his face from the shards. And as he plummeted rapidly towards the ground, the assassin suddenly vanished with a flash, as suddenly as he had appeared.

Cid was astonished, angry, and sorrowful all at once. It took great calm of mind to use a teleportation spell when falling through the air. If it had been any other man, Cid would have greatly admired him. _He got away from me once. But the next time I find him, I'm gonna fucking kill him,_ Cid vowed. But almost instantly his thoughts turned to Shera. Why her? After their marriage, he had managed to contain his angry outbursts. And now, his last words to her before she died had been in anger. Cid almost wanted to end his own life right there beside her. But not while Shera remained unavenged. Ignoring the biting pain from his fingers, Cid walked slowly back into the room where Shera's body still lay, motionless except for the thin trickle of blood oozing from her forehead. Cid let out a roar of rage and collapsed on the bed beside her. Footsteps thudded some distance off, within the expansive corridors of the building. Of course. Somebody had heard the gunshots. _Let them hear. I don't give a shit. I just gotta find that man and end his life, and then my own._ But another voice also echoed through his mind. _There aren't as many of us this time. It's only Cloud and Tifa, and there's danger everywhere. They're gonna get themselves killed without me. I gotta help them._ As he stood up, Cid turned to look down at his love one last time.

Tears began to form under his eyes as he looked down at her, so serene, so beautiful, even in death. And as he stood, simply watching her, remembering everything that had brought them together, the air around his head began to thicken. Cid turned around, gasping for breath, but could not see through the dense fog surrounding him. His consciousness dwindling, Cid tumbled forward, and then all went black.

Schwartzberg waited in the dark recesses of the hidden storage space, surveying the now empty room above through a vent near the floor. It was incredible. He could see quite clearly into the living room, but he could simply not be seen from above. A mere fifteen minutes after Tifa's departure, a band of Soldiers with flashlights and machine guns had burst into the house and ransacked it, searching for any clue to Tifa and Cloud's location. But they had not found Schwartzberg, even after a thorough search, and had eventually departed empty-handed.

Now, twenty minutes later, Schwartzberg anxiously anticipated Tifa's return. She had promised to return, but Schwartzberg feared for her; while he sat safe in this hidden cellar, she was out on the streets, where she could easily be captured or killed. And he owed her something; his very survival was due to her.

The door slowly opened and a solitary figure entered the living room. The figure carried no form of light, and Schwartzberg could not make out just who it was. His eyesight had never been his strongest point. Whoever it was made no move to turn on the lights, leaving the room shrouded in darkness. And Schwartzberg felt a mixture of horror and relief as he heard the latch to the secret room turn, and the shadowed figure enter.

"Tifa?" Schwartzberg said uncertainly, and received no answer. _It has to be Tifa, though. If one of the Soldiers knew of this room, they would have come in before._ But as the figure slowly advanced towards him, Schwartzberg became surer and surer that it was not Tifa. Panic swelled up inside him, as he tried to find some way out and realized he was trapped, his back to the wall. He cried out in terror, and the last thing he saw was a huge steel blade bearing down upon him.


	7. Chapter 6: A Journey Begins

Chapter Six: A Journey Begins

Jagged black pinnacles towered above the narrow ravine, obscuring it from view. A lone, narrow, winding path climbed around precarious pitfalls to lead to the small plateau nestled between the lofty peaks. Though all the paths through the Nibel Mountains were harsh and inhospitable, even those daring enough to pass through the mountains on their way north avoided this sloping trail, and the precise location of the valley quickly faded from the collective memory of the town of Nibelheim.

The reactor had been built sixteen years before, when President Shinra had realized how rich in Mako the Nibel Mountains were. The valley had been the perfect location, even more abundant with densely concentrated Mako than the rest of the area, and in a position that discouraged the local populace from stealing. Even when it was first constructed, only a few of the townspeople of Nibelheim knew how to reach the reactor safely, which was exactly the way President Shinra had wanted it. For there was another reason he had built in such an isolated place. All evidence of the company's darkest secret, the Jenova Project, had been stored in the reactor's innermost room. But now, all the experiments were long dead and gone. Dust coated the walls, but a thin trail of footprints snaked through it, leading deep into the heart of the reactor. After seven long years of stillness, one man had finally entered the dark building. That man was gazing at a broken statue on the floor of the reactor's innermost room, and waiting.

Vincent stood, completely motionless, as he looked at the upper half of the huge angelic statue on the cold stone floor. One wing had been shattered by the impact of the fall, and yet the statue still seemed as majestic as before. Something about its face mystified Vincent, something familiar… He reached down and gently touched the unblemished face, and a stream of images rushed through his head. _With a wave of Sephiroth's hand, the chamber burst into flames around him. He slowly strode across a narrow walkway above glowing pools of mako to where a beautifully carved statue of an angel stood, concealing the entrance to the heart of the reactor. But the reactor held no secrets from Sephiroth. With superhuman strength he wrenched the torso of the statue off and flung it into the flames. Ignoring the raging fires all around, he slowly raised his head and a smile appeared across his gaunt and harrowed face. His eyes gleamed with reflections of the flames, and his lips parted, whispering one word._

"_Mother."_

Startled, Vincent snatched his hand away and stepped back warily. _It was here, in this room, that it all started,_ he realized. No wonder his sense of longing had led him to this place. But Vincent had arrived over three hours ago, and though he searched the entire reactor, he had found nothing. But he knew that what he had sought for so long was nearby.

Footsteps thudded in the halls above, and Vincent silently readied his gun. Somebody had entered the reactor, and chances were it was not a friend. Moving quickly out of the central room, he darted along passageways and hid himself behind a great red tank. In the passage above he heard muffled voices.

"We'll stay here for the night. We can't go outside with the weather the way it is. Let's just get away from the entrance– I don't want to attract any visitors." A few seconds of silence passed, broken only by the heavy footsteps above, drawing rapidly closer.

"He said 'somewhere in the Nibel Mountains', and you didn't ask where?" came another voice. "You've got to be kidding me. This mountain range is huge! We could spend all year here!"

Astonishment began to seep into Vincent as he recognized the first voice. _No, it couldn't be,_ he told himself. _That's impossible._ Abandoning his cover, Vincent stood up to catch a glimpse of the doorway just as a party of three stepped through it, confirming his guesses. They were clearly just as surprised as he was.

"Hey, that's the freaky guy I was telling you guys about," the blonde Turk said. _Elena,_ Vincent recalled. _That was her name._ But the other two intrigued him much more than she did. _How the hell are they still alive?_ "He was with Cloud and Tifa at Icicle." She glared at Vincent furiously; the fact that he had witnessed Tifa shoving her down a long snowy hill apparently made him somehow responsible. Reno's eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Avalanche scum. What the fuck are you doing here?" The Turk asked, his electromag rod pointed at Vincent. But Vincent's mind was elsewhere. _The official records listed them as dead. And they'd be over sixty if they were still alive._ "Well?" Receiving no response, Reno nodded to Elena, who drew her handgun, glaring angrily. Turning back to Vincent, Reno continued. "It seems Elena here bears you a personal grudge. I don't know who you are, but if you've been associating with Avalanche then you're a criminal and a terrorist. So unless you want to die, I'd advise getting the fuck out of here."

But Vincent had no time to reply, for at that moment one of the great red tanks at the back of the room burst open. Mist bellowed out from the broken capsule, and an inhuman shriek echoed from within. The first thing that struck Vincent about the creature that emerged from the mist was that it was human, or at least once had been. Though it stood hunched over, it was as tall as an upright man, and its arms were lean and muscular. Long years of imprisonment in the deserted facility had worn away at all excess body fat, and the creature's ribs stuck out visibly through its deathly pale flesh. But even in such a grossly distorted body, distinctly human eyes peered from sunken sockets, as if it was searching for a way out of its misery. And it was not the only one. Two more hisses of compressed air escaping sounded from other parts of the chamber, and two other mutants emerged from their long sleep. Lumps of red flesh stuck out, seemingly at random, from the body of an enormous headless brute. The other's relatively ordinary body was altered by ash-grey skin, great leathery wings beneath its arms, and unearthly glowing eyes.

Reno spun around, rod now aimed at the barely human creatures that had emerged from their holding cells. Rude's shotgun was pointed warily at the headless creature, which was groping blindly around the room, gargantuan arms flailing. Vincent's right hand gripped the Death Penalty firmly, ready to fire at the slightest move from the winged beast. Then from the back of the room Elena fired twice, and the bullets streaked towards the first of the monsters at speeds lethal to an ordinary human. With incredible reflexes the creature leapt to the side, landing lightly on both feet and pausing only momentarily before flinging itself at the Turks in a frenzied attempt to escape from the reactor.

Vincent had only instants before the creature reached the mercenaries, but he had been a trained marksman before Elena was born, and his shot hit its mark perfectly. The bullet tore through the mutant's protruding ribs and embedded itself in a steel wall beyond. And then the sensation hit him, overwhelmed him, and Vincent fell to his knees. He heard it calling to him, a part of him, pulling him deeper into the mountains to be complete once again.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the deformed creature collide with Reno, arms clawing wildly, scrambling towards the door as blood gushed freely from the wound in its side. _They feel it too,_ Vincent realized. _Whatever is calling me is calling those creatures as well. No!_ He thought as he rose to his feet, his body moving of his own accord. _I must resist!_ The sounds of gunfire reached his ears as if he were hundreds of feet away. The creature grappling with Reno had pinned the Turk's arms to the floor, and was swiping at his face with its razor-sharp claws. With the last of his strength, Vincent fired one shot at the two figures, so close together that a slight error would kill the wrong one. His bullet buried itself in the creature's skull, he noticed with satisfaction, and fell to the floor, shaking violently.

Reno struggled to reach the electromag rod, just inches from his grip, but could not move his arm. Panicking, he attempted to fling the creature off him, but its powerful legs had pinned him to the floor. Its claws struck his face once, leaving a bloody gash on his cheek, and Reno realized that the next one would take his eye out. All he could do was cringe away as the creature raised its other claw– and it fell dead on top of him.

Shaking, Reno pushed the corpse over and saw blood oozing from a wound in the back of the mutant's head. _Jesus Christ! Two inches to the left and I'd be the dead one,_ he realized in amazement. Rude? Elena? Both had good aim, but he doubted either would be daring enough to take such a risk. _Besides,_ he realized, as he looked around the room, _they have problems of their own._ With growing disbelief, his eyes turned to the unidentified member of Avalanche, whose shaking hand still held a pistol aimed in his direction.

"Damn, that thing was fast," Elena complained, coming up behind him. "It got away, but it won't make it far with that wound I gave it," she added with a touch of pride. Rude stood over the corpse of the headless mutant, but was gazing in astonishment at the Avalanche member, who lay on the floor, deathly pale and sweating like crazy. He began to slowly walk over to Reno, and Reno could tell that the same thought was running through both of their minds. Ignoring Elena, Reno addressed his fellow veteran.

"You see that?"

"Yeah. And the shot he took when the thing was jumping hit it dead on. I've never seen such aim since…"

There was no need for him to finish his sentence. Nodding, Reno removed the strips of black and red cloth wound around the unconscious man's face.

"Those eyes," Rude muttered. "It _is_ him."

"What the hell's going on here?" Elena demanded, but was ignored completely.

"Jesus Christ…" Reno whispered. "Vincent…"

Vincent's red eyes suddenly focused in on Reno and he leapt back in astonishment.

"What the hell are you doing so close to my face? Stay away from me!" Vincent breathed, barely audibly. Smiling, Reno obeyed.

"It's good to have you back with us, sir."

Slowly, Vincent pulled himself to his feet. Rude was the first to venture to ask a question.

"Sir?"

"Yes, Rude?"

"How the hell are you still alive?" Vincent paused momentarily.

"I could ask the same of you. You should both be over sixty by now. And I'm not your squad leader anymore. Just call me Vincent."

"Will somebody please explain–"

"Shut up, Elena," Reno said, eager to question Vincent more. The former Turk looked up with a wry smile, an expression that rarely crossed his face.

"You're picking up some of my traits. Now, there are many things I must ponder. We will talk in the morning." Without another word, he strode off into an adjacent room.

"_Now_ will somebody tell me what's going on?" Elena asked. Reno grudgingly turned around and began to explain.

"I was born in Midgar in the year 1973, and–"

"Hold on," Elena cut in. "When?"

"1973." Reno repeated. "Sixty years ago."

"Yeah, sure, real funny. Now just shut up and tell me what really–"

"No, you shut up. You wanted to know what's going on, so just shut up and listen." Reno took a deep breath. "I'll spare you the details of my childhood; It's not my favorite subject of conversation. I was recruited for the Turks when I was nineteen, and spent three years in training– it was a lot different back then. There were over a hundred Turks, and separate training stations in every sector. Only the top ten percent of each class made the cut. That's where I met Rude. We were assigned to a squad led by Vincent. He was a crazy bastard, but he was the best sharpshooter I've ever seen, and I kinda liked him. After two years, Vincent was sent to Nibelheim to work for Hojo, that fucking madman, where he disappeared completely. Rude and I went to Nibelheim in search of him. We found him in the Shinra Mansion with a bullet wound in his chest, and before we could do anything about it, Hojo had his gun to my head. He led us into a room in the basement and locked us in a pair of strange-looking tanks. The next thing I remember was waking up thirty years later when Shinra finally realized where the hell we were. They never found Vincent's body, but we saw the bullet hole; I don't know how he could have survived. Anyways, they assigned us to Tseng's squad, and you know the rest."

A long silence followed these words, during which Elena looked over at Rude to confirm the verity of Reno's story. The bald Turk simply nodded gravely.

"And how come I never heard about any of this?" she asked finally.

"Tseng knew, and the President knew. To everybody else we were new recruits. Not surprising, otherwise the bastards would have had to fire Hojo."

"I can't believe the president didn't fire him. How could he let Hojo work for him knowing what he had done?"

"Get used to it, Elena. Shinra is like that. They kept Hojo around because they didn't give a shit about what he'd done. They just wanted the money they'd get off his twisted experiments. The only reason they revived us in the first place was cause they needed more Turks after losing so many in the Wutai War."

"Go get some sleep, Elena. The storm should be cleared up by tomorrow," Rude said suddenly. Elena nodded and retreated into a side chamber. Reno turned to his long-time squad member.

"What do you think of him?" he said, voicing the question that he knew Rude was also thinking.

"I don't know what happened to him in the past thirty-seven years, but it has only made him more frightening. But his aim is the same as ever. We could use a guy like him, Reno."

"I know. I'm not against asking him to rejoin the Turks. It's just I don't know if he wants to, that's all." A long pause followed.

"We can see in the morning, I guess," Rude said finally. "Go to sleep, Reno. I'll stay here and make sure nothing else comes out of these tanks." But as Reno sprawled out in the corner of an adjacent room minutes later, he found his mind was still haunted by memories, memories of the days when everything was simpler, when he had nothing to worry about except the possibility of getting shot on a mission. Now, it seemed there were so many more things to worry about, so many more things that could be fatal. A peal of thunder sounded in the distance, followed by the cry of an enraged beast, and Reno shivered and turned over. Sleep would be a long time coming.

The night air cool against her skin, Tifa ran on through the silent streets of Neo-Midgar, oblivious to the soft snowflakes falling gently onto her back. Nearly everybody was now indoors, not wanting to be associated with the assassination of an important member of the Shinra administration, but Soldiers still combed the alleys, searching for any trace of the fugitives. Tifa was by now hopelessly lost in the tangle of Neo-Midgar's back alleys, for though the northern reaches of the city had been planned in a perfect grid, buildings and avenues had been placed more and more haphazardly as the designers had drawn farther away from the heart of Neo-Midgar. Tifa ran down alleys at random, and as she did, the shouts and footsteps of the Soldiers grew louder. But Tifa raced forward, for with each step she took grew the feeling that she was drawing closer to her goal.

Light flooded the narrow alley as two Soldiers stepped out of an adjacent street, flashlights pointed directly at her face.

"Stop, woman!" one of them yelled, but before he had a chance to say anything else, Tifa was upon him, knocking the wind out of him with one precise blow to his stomach. Her second assailant barely had a chance to draw his sword before her kick caught him in the face. He stumbled backward from the force of the blow, blood streaming from his broken nose. Wasting no more time, she ran onward, then stopped suddenly as she entered a larger street and took in the scene around her.

The corpses of more than twenty Soldiers littered the road, lying in a broken circle around an object in the middle of the intersection. As Tifa approached it, she saw that it was a blood-covered sword, a full five feet long and six inches wide. Only those training to become high-ranking Soldiers were instructed in the use of these blades, Tifa realized with growing horror. And a Soldier would have no reason to slaughter so many of his comrades, especially on a night like this. No, there could only be one explanation: Cloud had been here. Dimly aware of Soldiers flocking into the street from all sides, Tifa realized she had been completely surrounded.

"You've got no hope of survival if ya resist, girl. Just put yer hands over yer head and nobody gets hurt, 'kay?" the leader of the group said cautiously, aware of what Tifa had done to his companions. Numbly Tifa obeyed his orders. She could not survive against such odds, and she suddenly felt that it did not matter. _Cloud promised that he would protect me that night at the well,_ she could not stop herself from thinking. _And now I have failed to protect him when he needs me the most._

"There's three more of 'em still out there, Fred. This is one helluva busy night," she heard one Soldier comment to another as they led her to an armored vehicle parked several streets away. _Three more, _Tifa thought grimly. _There's no way they could have found Schwartzberg, so that leaves only one of the others out there with Cloud. I failed to stop him. All I can do now is hope somebody else can._ The door of the police van closed with a click, and the vehicle drove off silently into the inky blackness.

"Hey! Get up! Your trial's beginning."

As Tifa's eyes adjusted to the light streaming into the dark cell, she saw the silhouette of a bulky Soldier framed in the doorway. Fear and uncertainty had kept her awake for hours in the dark chamber, but fatigue had eventually won out. Tifa pushed herself to her feet without protest, squinting as she stepped out into the hallway. Soon another Soldier joined them, followed by Cid, whose right hand was covered in a bloody cloth. As they reached the elevator, Tifa looked through the window to find that the sun had risen and it had been a full day since she woke up, anticipating the events to come. And now, only a day later, her life had been turned upside down. Cloud was missing, Shera was dead, and she and Cid were prisoners of the same man who had invited them to a reunion only days earlier.

Tifa snapped out of her thoughts and realized that she had followed the guard out of the elevator and up the wide, red-carpeted stairs to Reeve's office. Tifa knew immediately that it was not going to be an ordinary trial. Reeve sat behind his large desk, flanked by several minor officials and Luke Dorgonin, the captain of the Shinra police force. Dorgonin was a huge brute of a man, and Cloud had often told her that he did not trust the captain. Now it seemed that he was one of the people whom Reeve trusted the most. But all thoughts of the police officer vanished when she saw the person sitting to Reeve's right. Adams? What was she doing there? Tifa expected her to be either on the run or a fellow prisoner, not one of Reeve's confidents. _She must have found some way to convince Reeve that she's not responsible,_ Tifa thought. _Well, that means that he's not entirely blind to reason. If she could do it, we might be able to. _Reeve cleared his throat and spoke, his voice still as cold and heartless as it had been the day before.

"You have been brought here to make an appeal to me and my colleagues. You are both being charged with attempted assassination and the death of Alexander Preston. I have held doubts about your loyalty for some time now. Yesterday's conference was only a test. There I discovered that every one of you holds doubts about my ability to lead, and have often questioned my authority. Judy has already proven her innocence. You are being granted this opportunity to speak because you were once my friends and companions. Be grateful."

Tifa saw a flash of despair cross Reeve's face, but he regained his stony demeanor in an instant. But still, Tifa found her hope renewed. The old Reeve was not all gone. She would just have to get through to the man who hid behind his expressionless mask. But before she even had a chance to speak, Cid strode across the narrow distance that separated the two prisoners from the officials. He leaned over the desk and grabbed Reeve by the suit collar, hoisting him up to eye level. His voice echoed through the otherwise silent chamber.

"What the hell has gotten into you, John?"

The assembly was beginning to recover from its initial shock at Cid's action. The officials were murmuring among themselves in surprise. At the back of the room, the guards began to advance towards Cid. But Reeve was still motionless with astonishment. Adams seemed about to say something, but Cid continued, giving her no chance to speak.

"I don't know who or what is influencing you, but I know something is. You saved our lives in the Temple of the Ancients, and you helped save thousands of innocent lives in Midgar. You've successfully rebuilt Shinra, which most people thought was impossible. And this is not you, John. The John Reeve I knew would never have accused his companions, his friends, of trying to kill him. Which one–"

But Cid got no further, for the Soldiers were upon him, pulling him backwards and knocking him to the ground in an instant. Dorgonin covered the office in two strides, and his handgun was at Cid's temple before Tifa could react. The captain's voice boomed out across the room.

"Get up." Complete silence fell over the chamber, and no movement could be heard other than Reeve, who had fallen backwards out of Cid's grasp, slowly pulling himself to his feet. Cid stood up slowly. The captain motioned for his prisoner to begin walking. Tifa stood motionless, unable to help in any way, for what seemed like an eternity, as she watched Cid being led from the room.

"Stop."

Reeve's command took the entire room by surprise. Cid's bowed head snapped up, and everybody in the chamber was speechless. Tifa could hardly believe what she had just heard. Reeve continued bitterly.

"I've made some horrible mistakes. Where are they, Cid? Where are the others? Captain, call off your men before anybody is hurt. We need to find whoever's really responsible for all this."

Tifa thought she saw a flash of disdain cross the massive policeman's face as he strode out of the room, but it was gone so quickly, replaced with a blank expression, that she wondered whether she had only imagined it. She put it out of her mind, though. There were more important things at stake than a policeman's loyalty.

"I know where Schwartzberg is," she put in quickly. "I'll go get him."

"You four!" Reeve said instantly, gesturing to a group of Soldiers. "Escort this lady to wherever she tells you to go. And you," he said to Cid, "need to get that hand cleaned up. We can find the others when Tifa and Schwartzberg return."

Several minutes later, Tifa stepped out of a police van parked in front of her house. Shivering against the icy wind that still persisted although the snowfall had long since ceased, she told the Soldiers to wait in the van and darted inside. Shutting the door firmly behind her, she looked around and found the room completely ransacked. Oh well. She hadn't expected the Soldiers to ignore it.

"Anton?" she called out, looking around anxiously at the wrecked furniture. Complete silence greeted her. _He might have fallen asleep down there,_ she reassured herself. _It has been more than seven hours since he went down there. _She walked over to the door and pulled it open, revealing a terrible sight.

Schwartzberg lay against the far wall, his mouth and eyes frozen in an expression of sheer terror. A bloody gash ran across his chest, and Tifa knew of only one weapon that could leave such a huge mark. She shut her eyes tight, unable to accept such a gruesome spectacle, but nothing changed when she opened them again, confirming the reality of the situation.

"No," she whispered to herself, shaking her head. _This is impossible, _she thought. _Only one man knows of this room, and that is…Cloud._ Spinning around, Tifa scanned the room. It was here that she and Cloud had stored all their equipment from their adventures seven years ago. She frantically looked over at the closet in which Cloud's Ultima Weapon had rested over the years, and all she saw was an open door and an empty space where the sword should have been. Desperately, she turned to the materia chest, only to find that it too was empty. Nobody could use Cloud's sword without his years of diligent training. Nobody but Cloud could have found the room in the first place. She had arrived too late. Cloud was gone. And judging from the equipment he had taken, he intended it to stay that way.

Tifa had staggered into the office, tears flowing down her face and bawling incomprehensibly. Reeve had straightaway realized how exhausted she was, and sent her to get some rest and change into clean clothes. Cid had already guessed that the news she bore was not going to be good. And when she had finally related it, Cid's worst fears and more had been confirmed.

"Are you sure it was Cloud?" Reeve asked for the third time, unable to believe what he was hearing.

"Nobody else could have known where the room was. But it's not his fault. Somebody or something is controlling him."

Cid and Reeve nodded gravely; they had both seen Cloud lose control of his body in the Temple of the Ancients and the Crater. Cid thought that kind of behavior should have stopped with the death of Sephiroth, but apparently it still persisted. He broke the heavy silence that had descended on the group.

"And what exactly did he take with him?"

"His sword, and all the materia. And enough food to last him a week."

Cid sighed and shook his head slowly. _There's no denying it,_ he thought. _Cloud's gone, and whoever's controlling him intends it to be a long trip._ His thoughts were interrupted by Adams's entrance into the room.

"Excuse me, sir," she said to Reeve. "We have no leads on Mr. Strife, but we do have some clues regarding Warrington's location. Apparently, some camera-crazy tourist recognized him from the unveiling and took some pictures." She handed a thin envelope to Reeve, who quickly opened it and scanned its contents.

"He's getting into a helicopter," he said after a moment's pause. "And flying south. Junon."

"There can be no clearer sign, sir. Avoiding the patrols is one thing, but fleeing the city is another altogether." Reeve nodded.

"Send two shuttles of Soldiers to Junon to arrest him, Judy. Then report back to me."

As Adams left the room, Cid glanced at the clock and pulled himself to his feet.

"We can't stay around much longer, John. With each hour we wait, Cloud gets farther and farther away from us. Tifa and I have to be getting on our way."

Reeve nodded and hurried down the stairs, but Tifa stayed next to Cid, her expression an anxious frown.

"Cid," she asked, "What about Shera?"

"She wouldn't have wanted some big party attended by people she didn't even know. I'll see to her myself."

Half an hour later, having been driven to the edge of Neo-Midgar, away from the noise and bustle of the city, Cid stepped out of the Shinra taxi with Shera's body in his arms and a heavy sack over his shoulder. The driver gave him a strange look as he drove away, and Cid did not blame him. A silent man carrying a body wrapped in a white shroud and a bundle of sticks was hardly his average customer. Cid slowly began to set up all the materials he had brought. When Shera's body finally lay on the pile of dried sticks and logs, Cid gazed up into the clear, open sky, oblivious to the wind.

_Flight,_ Cid recalled. _It was flight that brought us together; our common passion. But I was always busy, or there wasn't enough room in the plane; You were always stuck making tea for guests while I was out in the sky, experiencing the ultimate thrill. But now I will make it up to you, Shera_. Bowing his head, he lit the pyre. The flames consumed the wood along with her lifeless body in moments. Cid looked up again to see threads of white smoke drifting up into the sky aimlessly, slowly weaving their way higher and higher until they disappeared from view. He stood watching the spot where the smoke had vanished for a minute, then turned and slowly strode back to the city, where smoke from the factories would soon blot out the existence of his tiny funeral pyre forever.

While Cid was gone, Tifa had seen to everything. She had packed more than enough food for Cid and herself, and Reeve had supplied materia in case of danger. By the time Cid had returned, they were set to go.

"Right," said Reeve. "I'll get a man to drive you to the edge of the city." He turned as if to leave, but Tifa could tell that he wanted to say something else. "Can I come with you guys?" he asked finally.

"You still have Cait Sith hidden in a closet somewhere, then?" Cid asked, smiling. "Sure, if you can get him powered up quick enough, we'd be happy to–"

"No, I mean me. The real me," Reeve interrupted him. Cid and Tifa looked at him in surprise. "It's my fault he left; you would have been able to stop him if you weren't on the run from my Soldiers," Reeve continued bitterly. "I just want to help set things right. Judy and Dorgonin can run the company and watch Midgar while I'm gone."

Cid nodded slowly, and Tifa could tell why he had hesitated. There was no telling where Cloud could lead them, and if worst came to worst, Reeve would be helpless. _But then again,_ thought Tifa, _if this turns into a dangerous mission, judging by the other times somebody took control of Cloud's body, Reeve won't be the only one with a low chance of survival._ She quickly cleared her throat and broke the awkward silence that had settled over the group.

"Let's go then." The two men nodded grimly, and they set off. _The journey has begun,_ thought Tifa, _And nobody knows how or where it will end. We can only hope._ It was not a comforting thought.

Maxwell appeared with a flash in the cold steel room, and slowly drew himself to his feet. Grimacing, he contemplated the results of his excursion. Most of it had been successful, but his exit had hardly been graceful, and it would complicate his plans. Cosmo Canyon would soon be taken, and with the huge materia in his hands, the rest of the continent would fall quickly. The seeds of rebellion had been sown in Wutai, and his success in the east continent would depend on how much of his plan that damn Cid Highwind would manage to mess up. He scowled as he looked down at his tattered, bloody coat sleeve. _The next time I encounter that bastard,_ Maxwell vowed, _he's going to die._

Shoving the door open, Maxwell strode down the silent corridors, thinking about his day. His morning visit to the ruins of Midgar had reminded him of his own childhood in the city, over twenty-five years ago. The sole heir to the wealthy businessman Thomas Maxwell's fortunes, he had attended all the best and most competitive schools in Midgar, and excelled in all of them without even trying, no matter how hard his teachers worked him. Some of them had even retired out of sheer frustration. Bored with his effortless success, Maxwell had enrolled in combat training, sure that he would finally meet his match in the rigorous fighting lessons. But even there he quickly mastered everything he was taught, soon surpassing his teachers. By the age of eighteen, Maxwell had come to the conclusion that he was simply superior to all the others, the poor fools who sweated over tasks that came naturally to him. Maxwell's mother had died when he was ten, leaving him with a distant father who hardly noticed his son's considerable achievements. The young Warren Maxwell could see right through the man, could see his many faults and flaws, and knew that he deserved power much more than his "father" did. For Maxwell knew something even his prestigious father did not: he was not truly Thomas Maxwell's son. He had heard his mother's whispered phone conversation with her secret lover long after she thought he was asleep, when her husband was still at work, a year before her death. Ever since that day, he had searched in vain for his true father, whom his adolescent mind told him would be a genius like himself, but abandoned the search at the age of twenty, when a freak "accident" killed Thomas Maxwell, leaving him wealth only matched by that of the president and some of the more prominent members of his cabinet. Maxwell's newfound fortune soon put all thoughts about his father out of his mind. But it still made him proud to think that, though it had happened twenty-nine years after he first made the promise, he had finally fulfilled his childhood vow.

Maxwell was pulled out of his memories as he heard a noise outside the heavy metal door. _Perhaps it's the mercenaries,_ he thought as he crossed over to the door to open it. But he was immediately proven wrong by the woman who stood in front of him, not shivering against the frozen winds that howled around her. Short in stature, her skin seemed to emit a pale glow, and though her face was unwrinkled and her raven-black hair contained no grey strands, she seemed somehow older than her youthful features revealed. And suddenly Maxwell recognized her. _It should have been obvious that she would be the first to arrive_. _So, the Great Sephiroth's at work again,_ he thought with a smile. _It's started now,_ Maxwell realized, and could not hide a shiver. _She is the first, and soon there will be others. There's no reconsidering, no going back. For better or worse, the plan is in motion._


	8. Chapter 7: Homeland

Chapter Seven: Homeland

"Damn it!" Barret's cry echoed into the air for the fifth time and met with only the heavy silence of the jungle around him. Nanaki growled in frustration. It was hardly Barret's fault that the Harad-Zun were nowhere to be seen, but his repeated shouts and curses were not helping.

They had departed in the morning to Gongaga and arrived several hours later in front of the ruined jungle town. But they had not been able to find any trace of the Harad-Zun either among the charred remains of the town or in the surrounding jungle. What frustrated Nanaki was not that they had not run into the Harad-Zun, for he was not entirely eager to do so, but that they had no clue to the location of their enemies. Yuffie was searching through the ruined buildings one more time, in hoping to find some small clue, but Nanaki could already guess at the result of her search. It seemed that, aside from burning down the town and killing half of its inhabitants, the Harad-Zun had left the area entirely untouched, which was impossible. They had camped in the ruins of the town for a week, but no evidence showed. Nanaki quickly glanced over at the satchel crudely strapped around his back and saw the comforting yellow glow of the single huge materia he had brought with him. Though his original intent had been to use it against the Harad-Zun when he ambushed their camp, he now realized it was much more likely that the Harad-Zun would ambush them.

Looking around, Nanaki saw Barret wander into the ruins of Gongaga just as Yuffie emerged looking shaken and disturbed. Sighing, she shook her head grimly.

"It's pretty clear that the Harad-Zun meant us to find those bodies. It seems like they were trying to give some kind of warning by destroying Gongaga. And I know there's a clue around here somewhere; we're just not finding it."

Barret could be heard again from the debris, cursing angrily.

"What kind of bastards would do something like this to an innocent person?" he raged. "When I find those sons-of-bitches, I swear, I'm gonna… Hey, what the hell? You guys, check this out!" Nanaki and Yuffie hurried over to where Barret stood in the middle of a ruined building, staring at a piece of paper pinned to a half-collapsed wall.

"'It's not over. Come to Wutai.'" Nanaki read aloud. "So they meant for us to find it then. It's obviously a diversion." But Yuffie suddenly seemed to recall something.

"Harad-Zun…Haradin…Why didn't I think of it earlier? Even the descriptions match! We have to get to Wutai quickly."

"What the hell?" Barret asked.

"A long time ago my ancestors in Wutai fought many battles with a tribe of warriors who called themselves the Haradin. Thirty years ago, after a major battle in the Da-Chao mountains, they completely disappeared. A note was found on the battlefield with the words 'We will return', but no trace of them was ever found. I think they really mean something. This isn't just a diversion; I have a really bad feeling about this."

Nanaki weighed his choices carefully. He was reluctant to leave the canyon for something that could turn out to be a false lead, but these Haradin sounded too similar to the Harad-Zun to be coincidence. _And if they're not in Gongaga and not in Wutai, then where are they?_ he wondered. He knew that they would not find any other leads, and he supposed that taking a chance would be better than sitting around in Cosmo Canyon and waiting for the Harad-Zun to regroup and crush them.

"We'll go," he said aloud finally. "But where can we get a plane?" Yuffie smiled.

"Follow me."

Several hours later, Barret shoved his way through the bustling crowds that filled even the smallest streets of the Gold Saucer with Nanaki at his side, trying not to lose sight of Yuffie. The young ninja slipped through holes in the crowd that neither Barret nor Nanaki could even find, and occasionally had to double back to make sure they were still following her. Barret tried to hide his irritation. The Gold Saucer was hardly his favorite place, and Yuffie was not his ideal companion. After half an hour of weaving back and forth through the smaller passages of the Gold Saucer, Barret had the urge to break something. It didn't take this long to get from the entrance of the Gold Saucer to any other part of it, but Yuffie seemed to be avoiding all the main passages. She had even insisted that they take an alternate route into the Gold Saucer, using the sewer tunnels of all places, to avoid the main entrance. _The girl is definitely hiding something_, he thought as he glared at several passing visitors who stopped near him, doubtlessly wondering where the stench was coming from. _And I don't trust her at all._

They had returned to Cosmo Canyon, and then driven back to North Corel with the surviving Corelians. Barret had stopped to pay his respects to those who had fallen in battle, and to say goodbye to Marlene and Elmyra, both of whom had followed him back to Corel after the destruction of Midgar so long ago. He did not know how long he was going to be gone, but he intended to fight the Harad-Zun, or Haradin, as Yuffie now called them, until they no longer posed a threat to Cosmo Canyon or Corel. After he had made his farewells, they had taken the Corelian Cable Jet to the Gold Saucer, where Yuffie said she could get a plane.

Barret found himself standing at the end of the passage, gazing into an even more crowded walkway. He caught a glimpse of Yuffie in the middle of the crowd, and began to shove his way towards her. His steel gun arm and Nanaki's menacing growls were enough to keep most people out of his way, and for the first time since they had arrived, he caught up with Yuffie before she vanished entirely. Yuffie seemed in a hurry to get going, for she darted away as soon as Barret and Nanaki drew close. But Barret had reached the limit of his endurance. He grabbed Yuffie by the back of her shirt and hoisted her into the air.

"Hey, that hurts! Lemme go!" Yuffie struggled to escape from his grasp, but Barret cut her off.

"You're gonna stop this right now, y'hear?" he shouted, letting loose all the anger that had accumulated over the past half hour. "Can't you walk at a goddamn normal rate like the rest of us? If we had just taken the main streets we would have been there twenty minutes ago, goddamnit! If you–"

But here Barret paused, for he heard the voices that Yuffie had been frantically trying to get him to notice.

"–five hundred thousand gil."

"You're right, it is her."

"You radio the captain and get some more men. I'll stay on her trail." A hulking man dressed in the uniform of a Gold Saucer guard emerged from the crowd and began striding purposefully towards them.

"Lemme go! Lemme go!" Yuffie said again, her voice growing more frantic by the second, and Barret reluctantly consented. The news that Yuffie had committed some kind of crime here confirmed his suspicions, and only made him angrier. But he knew that if Yuffie was caught, they would have no way to get to Wutai. Holding back his anger, he darted after her into the crowd.

After several minutes of frantic scrambling, they came to a stop underneath one of the colossal rollercoasters in the Saucer's Speed Square. Yuffie looked puzzled, trying to figure out how to get to the plane from their location. Barret stormed over to her and glared her straight in the eyes.

"Alright Yuffie, what the hell did you do?"

"N-nothing, really! They just think I'm one of those bandits who I told you about before! I promise! Okay, okay," she added, in response to Barret's suspicious glare. "I didn't buy a ticket last time I came. But that's all! Seriously!"

"Yuffie," Nanaki warned, a hint of a growl in his voice.

"Well," Yuffie added reluctantly. "There was this one vault which was easily accessible through the same air vent that I used to get in…"

"I knew it! I goddamn knew it! Is it possible for you to even be in the same city as something valuable and not take it? Damn it, Yuffie, you have to learn some goddamn tact!" Barret shouted, and Yuffie winced, both because he had just rammed his fist into the wall six inches from her head and because she had heard the voices of several guards, not far away.

"You hear that?"

"Yeah, that's a restricted area. There shouldn't be anybody in there."

"Let's check it out."

"Okay Yuffie, which way to the plane?" Nanaki asked hurriedly, for the sound of footsteps was getting dangerously close. Yuffie simply gestured for them to follow.

Ten minutes later they finally emerged into a huge chamber filled with small personal planes. Yuffie quickly scanned the lot and pointed straight ahead, at the Tiny Bronco. Barret was quite surprised to see the battered old plane. When he had returned to Corel after Sephiroth's death, he had heard that Cid was planning to repair it, but wondered why the hell the pilot, who was a sensible person most of the time, had given the plane to Yuffie, of all people. _Then again,_ he thought, _knowing Yuffie, he might not haven given it to her at all._ Barret's memories vanished as he heard guards running towards the parking lot. All three of them climbed into the plane, and as Nanaki lay down on the back seat, Yuffie fumbled around in her huge bag.

"Let's see, where's that key? I know it's in here somewhere…"

"Quickly!" Barret hissed as the footsteps grew louder.

"Ah, there we go!" Yuffie finished searching and started the Bronco just as guards spilled out into the lot. They fumbled for their machine guns as the plane headed for the open air at the end of the runway, slowly gaining momentum. There were a few short bursts of gunfire, one of which barely missed Nanaki's head, before the plane finally soared out over the great desert surrounding the Gold Saucer. Glancing back over her shoulder, Yuffie smiled at Barret and Nanaki, both of whom were sighing with relief.

"Well, that was fun, wasn't it?"

It was evening by the time the city of Wutai grew visible in the distance. Although seven years ago it had been a small town, Wutai had grown almost as much as Neo-Midgar had, and was now the second largest and wealthiest city in the world. Lord Godo still ruled the city as Wutai's strongest warriors always had, but his power over the whole of Wutai was now only ceremonial, and only its northern reaches, nestled into the lofty Da-Chao mountains, still followed the ancient traditions set down by the rulers of the Pagoda generations ago. Most of the city was embracing the modern styles popular in Neo-Midgar, and the Wutaian language had vanished even in the north. Yuffie was no great advocate of the ancient traditions of Wutai, they were far too formal, but the city's transformation still made her sad. The Wutai that she knew and grew up in had vanished; it was only a shadow of the past, and Yuffie felt guilty, as if her six year absence was the reason for the changes. _The old town and the Pagoda won't have changed,_ she reassured herself. _At least something will be the same after all this time._

But Yuffie felt no relief as the Tiny Bronco drew nearer to the northern part of the city. She could already tell that something was amiss as the plane glided lower and lower, passing ornamental gardens and richly decorated buildings. Though the rest of Wutai was always crowded and active, the northern reaches of the city were usually quiet in the evening. Now they seemed even more filled with frantic activity than the modern areas. Yuffie gasped as she saw trails of rising smoke against the fiery red light of the setting sun, and only a minute later her worst fears had been confirmed. The glorious Pagoda of the Five Gods, which had once stood tall in the center of Wutai's old town, was now only a smoldering ruin.

Yuffie veered the plane around and landed hastily. As she stepped out of the plane, followed closely by Barret and Nanaki, sounds reached her ears that had been previously obscured by the roar of the engine: the sounds of a city in chaos. Urgent orders and pleas could be heard everywhere, and people were nearly tripping over each other in an effort to get water to the burning Pagoda. The screams of the wounded and the cries of relatives, the shouts of soldiers, and the hiss of dying flames all blended together in Yuffie's mind, swallowed by the ever-present crackling of the blazing Pagoda, hundreds of years of Wutai's history and culture devoured in what seemed like an instant.

Two figures hurried across the courtyard towards Yuffie and her companions, and the red light of the blaze fell over them, illuminating their features. With the possible exception of Lord Godo himself, Chekhov was the most powerful spellcaster in Wutai, and was recognized as the wisest of Godo's four disciples. His companion was unknown to Yuffie, but quite an imposing figure, over six feet tall, a height rarely reached by Wutaians, and with the bulk to match it.

"Thank goodness you're here, my lady," Chekhov panted, "The Haradin have returned, and we also have a rebellion on our hands. We fought them off, but…" He trailed off, gazing at the charred ruins of the Pagoda.

It was only then that Yuffie took in the scene around her. She had been completely preoccupied with the blaze, and had not noticed the mangled bodies all over the courtyard. Chekhov's robes were torn and blood-smeared, and he was limping slightly. His companion had several thin slashes across his face and tattered shirt, and his right arm had been hastily wrapped in a blood-soaked sling. Barret and Nanaki were inspecting the bodies, and Yuffie was left alone facing the two Wutaians, completely speechless.

"Where's dad?" she finally managed, still struggling to process everything that had happened. Neither of them replied

"It was Staniv," Chekhov said hesitantly. "He betrayed us, and attacked the Pagoda only an hour ago, declaring himself the rightful Lord of Wutai. He was backed by a disorderly band of rebels, the ancient order of assassins called the Shadow Fists, and the Haradin, who somehow managed to get hold of guns." Chekhov winced as he said this, and the other man looked down at his ruined arm with a scowl. Modern weapons were frowned upon in traditional Wutai, which made it even worse that the Haradin had acquired rifles. They now had a clear advantage over the Wutaians, whose army had been disbanded after the war with Shinra twenty-three years ago. "One of them destroyed Tsoyu's arm, and another would have killed me if I hadn't managed to slow it down. But that's not the worst of it. Staniv now commands over two hundred rebels and at least two hundred of the Haradin."

"And Godo?" Yuffie asked urgently, fearing a reply. "Where is he, Chekhov?" Chekhov looked down, avoiding her gaze.

"I'm sorry, Lady Yuffie," The man called Tsoyu said slowly. "Lord Godo is dead."

"No! That's impossible! He's the strongest warrior in Wutai!" Yuffie's denials were met only with Tsoyu's stoic expression and Chekhov's bowed head, and she stumbled backward, tears welling up in her eyes. "H-how?" she managed finally.

"A bullet hit him in the hip. He couldn't move, but he killed all of the Haradin who tried to move in and finish him off. Then Staniv picked up a rifle from a dead Haradin, and shot him in the chest from five feet away. I failed to stop him." Tsoyu hung his head. "A dog has more honor than that accursed traitor!" he scowled.

"What about the others?" Yuffie asked urgently, trying to take her mind off her father. "Gorkii and Shake, where are they?" Chekhov regarded her levelly.

"Gorkii was an old man," he said finally. "He died four years ago." It was not an accusation, but Yuffie suddenly felt horribly guilty for leaving the city. She was grateful when Chekhov spoke again. "Tsoyu took his position in the Pagoda. And Shake– Shake's dead." Chekhov's voice began to falter. "We found his body in his house after the raid, filled with enough poison to kill ten men."

"Where is Godo now? I want to see him." Yuffie asked, breaking the long silence that followed Chekhov's news.

"We fought to protect his body." Tsoyu replied. "Eventually, the rebels retreated into the Da-Chao mountains. They fought just long enough to cripple us, to make pursuit impossible. We took Lord Godo's body back to his house. If you wish, my lady, I will take you there."

"No. I want to be left alone," Yuffie said flatly, and turned away to hide her tears. Confident that neither of them would try to follow her, she began to walk out of the square. The sun had now set, and the only light in the courtyard was that of the dying, flickering flames of the Pagoda, all that remained of the once glorious structure. And as Yuffie reached the edge of the square, they too gave a last dying hiss, and were gone.

"It's the Harad-Zun alright," Barret said as he looked down at the corpse of the green-clothed warrior with a scowl, a torch clutched in his good hand to penetrate the darkness that had settled over Wutai shortly after their arrival.

"Yuffie was right, then," Nanaki said from behind him. "But why? It isn't a diversion, because they are really here. They didn't spontaneously decide to attack Wutai instead of Cosmo Canyon; they wanted us to follow them. I don't understand it."

"Neither do I." Barret shook his head. "But let's get back to Yuffie and the others. Maybe they got some news for us."

But as they approached the center of the square where they had left the Wutaians, they found only Chekhov and his companion, both of whom were frowning worriedly into the distance. Following their gaze, Barret saw Yuffie walking slowly out of the courtyard, barely visible in the darkness. He moved to stop her, but Chekhov motioned for him to be still.

"Don't follow her. It is a difficult time for her." Barret looked at Chekhov questioningly, and the man sighed. "Her father is dead. A group of rebels and Haradin led by Staniv attacked the city, and he was killed in the attack. The town has suffered a terrible blow. Our leader and one of our greatest warriors are dead. We have less than one hundred men to fight the invaders, who could return to destroy us whenever they wish. News of the attack has not yet reached the south, but they will underestimate it as they do everything; they will think it is merely a petty feud among their rustic northern cousins. We are alone in this battle, and the morale of the men is low. The only thing I don't understand is why they didn't finish us off when they had the opportunity. If they had fighting, they would have surely killed us all, but they chose to retreat into the mountains right after they broke our main defensive line."

"I get it, " Barret said, grimacing, "It's no diversion, it's a trap. They got the advantage when they're up in the mountains, and they got more men than us. All we can do is wait around till they attack again or attack them in the mountains. It's suicide either way."

"Godo used to say the best way to disarm an enemy's trap is to walk into it when you know it's there," Chekhov's companion said thoughtfully. "The odds are still in their favor, but it's a better strategy than simply waiting." Chekhov shook his head sadly.

"I'm afraid it's impossible. We have less than a hundred fighters in the city, and neither Tsoyu nor I are in any condition to keep fighting. Godo's death has demoralized the men. You could try, but I fear the two of you would be alone."

"Yuffie will fight," Nanaki said. "She will not let Staniv live with her father unavenged. And with Godo's daughter leading them into battle, the men will surely follow, to whatever end."

"Will you talk to her?" Chekhov asked, almost pleading. "She told us not to follow her, but I'm sure you could make her understand how much we need her, how much Wutai needs her." Nanaki nodded grimly.

"I'll do what I can," he said, and disappeared into the night.

Barret had no doubts that his friend would be able to convince Yuffie of the urgency of the situation. What he did doubt was Yuffie's ability to inspire the soldiers and lead them into battle. She was never serious enough, never able to concentrate on anything without getting distracted. But then Barret recalled the sadness and repressed anger in her eyes when she gazed into the flames of the Pagoda. She had not followed or even spoke of the ancient traditions that the building had symbolized, but for once he could for once understand how she felt. Biggs, Wedge, and Jessie, the original members of Avalanche, had angered him with their constant demands for pay, and he had not even noticed how much he cared for them until they were dead. Yuffie had acted against her father's will countless times to do what she wanted, and now he was gone, without even giving her a chance to apologize. Barret shook his head. _Jesus Christ, what's gotten into me lately? Sympathizin' with Yuffie? It's gotta be the first time I ever done something like that._

Suddenly, Barret realized that Chekhov and Tsoyu were still standing close by, apparently waiting for him to speak. He looked away again and felt the silence grow awkward. _How am I supposed to talk to a Wutaian?_ he wondered. _The only Wutaian I know is Yuffie. I don't know anything about Wutai. Hell, I don't even know if they speak another language here or something. Still, though, I gotta say something._ After a long pause, he finally came up with a question.

"What I don't get," he asked the Wutaians, "is who the Haradin really are. We fought them back in Cosmo Canyon, but they called themselves the Harad-Zun for some reason. Everybody around here seems to know who they are, but nobody seems to know why they're here. Can somebody tell me what the hell's going on?" Chekhov nodded and cleared his throat.

"The Haradin are the original inhabitants of the Da-Chao mountains. Back then the Wutaians lived in small, uncivilized villages in the southern reaches of the continent. Under the visionary leadership of Tailon, an ancestor of Godo, the Wutaians undertook a giant exodus. Tailon claimed he had been sent by the god Leviathan to lead the Wutaians to their destiny. Whether or not he spoke the truth, he brought our people religion, culture, and most importantly, inspiration. The area in which they dwelt was mountainous and desolate, so the Wutaians headed north. Finally they came to the slopes of Da-Chao, where established the town of Wutai. Tailon immediately ordered the construction of the Pagoda to thank the gods for protecting them on their journey. It stood their for the next three hundred years and more, surviving through even the harshest times, until now…" Barret looked closely at Chekhov, and saw, to his surprise, that the man was crying. Brushing tears from his face, the Wutaian continued.

"Our first contact with the Haradin was during the rule of Konaze, Lord Godo's father. He claimed that another offering had to be made to the five gods who had favored the Wutaian people in the form of five giant statues carved into the mountainside. Only one statue was completed before the workers were attacked by the Haradin, which began the war. For decades we fought back and forth, with neither side gaining much ground. Konaze claimed the mountains were sacred to Leviathan, and that it was Wutai's destiny to take them, but the Haradin held their land fiercely. Strange legacies of their stay still stand in the caves of Da-Chao, undying walls of flame guarding hoards of precious gems. The Haradin were not content merely to reclaim the land they had once controlled; both sides were now locked in a perpetual struggle, with neither willing to give up until the other was destroyed. Meanwhile, construction continued on the rest of the statues. Three more were completed during Konaze's reign, leaving only the most ambitious, that of Lord Leviathan himself, to be built. The tide of war shifted in favor of the Haradin, who soon controlled all of the mountains, and began to launch raids against the outlying villages and even Wutai itself. Konaze died in single combat with the Haradin leader, and disheartened by his death, the Wutaians lost their will to fight. It looked like the war would be over in weeks, if not days.

"That was when Godo, who was only twenty-six years old, took command of the demoralized Wutaians. The leader of the Haradin who had killed Konaze was rumored to be even younger. Godo realized straight away that his father's plan for the statues was too ambitious, and used the hundreds of thousands of gil set aside for Leviathan's statues on food and weapons. Under Godo the tide of was shifted again, and the Haradin were pushed back into the mountains. Wutai was on the verge of victory. Finally, Godo defeated the Haradin in a climactic battle on the slopes of Da-Chao, and they fled deep into the mountains. No trace of them was ever found, save for a note at the site of the final battle, with the words 'We will return.' This was thirty years ago. We never saw the Haradin again until tonight. Godo never ordered the construction of Leviathan's statue, but kept the others up, as a reminder of the price of ambition.

"I suppose I should mention that our enemies had the strangest honor code I have ever of. When they our razed villages, they would slaughter everyone: the women, the children, the elderly, and those who tried to flee. But if a warrior fell prey to ill luck during a battle, the Haradin would never strike when he was defenseless. It seems their culture emphasizes skill in battle and respect for the powerful, whether they are one's friends or enemies. But they did not have the same respect for their enemies tonight. Like the rest of the world, they have exchanged tradition for power. Honor has vanished from everywhere but Wutai, and with Lord Godo's death, our days are numbered. Soon, the world will have forgotten it altogether."

Yuffie gazed solemnly at the altar on which her father's body had been placed, her mind filled with memories. Godo looked much older than when she had last seen him. His hair had only contained several gray strands when she left the city, but now it was completely white. Lines of stress and worry creased his brow, and Yuffie imagined his pain at seeing the city he and his ancestors had worked so hard to build slowly slip away, while she relaxed and hunted for materia in Mideel. _You could have been there. You could have done something. _The voices in her head challenged her, and even though she knew she could not have stopped the modernization of Wutai, she could not hide behind excuses. Not now that he was dead. _You could have seen him, talked to him, listened to him for once, instead of vanishing into thin air and destroying his life's joy._ Yuffie recoiled from the unspoken accusations, tears forming beneath her eyes. She had intended to eventually return to Wutai, but always put her plans off for later. There was always something she had to do, and the time had passed so quickly. But now there was no more time; she had come too late and everything had changed. A cry of anguish escaped from Yuffie's throat, and she beat her fist against the altar in frustration, then collapsed, sobbing, her face cradled in her father's lifeless arms.

"Yuffie." The word came from behind her, and Yuffie spun around instantly, clutching her shuriken. She relaxed at the sight of Nanaki, and the weapon fell from her hands and clattered on the floor below. Suddenly Yuffie seemed to lose all of her energy, her despair and fatigue finally catching up with her.

"Go away," she said sullenly, hanging her head. "I wanna be alone." Nanaki didn't move.

"I know today has been hard for you, but you cannot give in to despair. The soldiers are demoralized; they need a leader. They need _you_, Yuffie. The Haradin could attack again at any minute, and we cannot allow ourselves to fall prey to hopelessness, or we cannot win this fight. Please help us. I don't just ask for myself and Barret, but for everybody in the city. Wutai needs your help." Yuffie raised her head and stepped towards him angrily, her cheeks stained with tears.

"You say Wutai needs me? Look at the city, Nanaki, and tell me they all know who I am. Don't lie to me." Despair settled in once more, and her voice dropped to a whisper. "They don't even know he's dead. He worked so hard to build this city, defeat all of its enemies, and they don't even care. It'll be in the newspapers tomorrow, recorded as some kind of a minor revolt among the old-fashioned northerners. It'll be forgotten in a few days. Why should I fight for Wutai? Look at what it's become!"

"Godo could see that the city would never be the same, that the people would not thank him for fighting the rebels. He knew that whatever the outcome, the people of Wutai would not care unless it affected them personally. But he chose to fight anyways, to defend what he had created even if it cost him his life. My father died fighting hordes of Gi warriors, protecting all those in the canyon who could not fight. He made Bugenhagen swear not to reveal any of it to me, because he did not want me to give in to despair. He chose to have me think of him as a coward rather than know the truth and feel only sorrow. And Godo would have wanted you to do the same thing, Yuffie. He died so that you could live on and continue his work. He would have wanted you to take revenge on Staniv instead of despairing and waiting for death. The surviving warriors have lost confidence, and only you, Lord Godo's daughter, can restore it. Help us defeat the Haradin once and for all, and ensure the safety of Wutai."

Yuffie's eyes filled with tears, and she walked over to where Nanaki stood on the steps and sat down next to him.

"Thanks, 'Naki," she said, looking up into his face. "It's just that… time seemed to go by so fast. I thought Wutai would never change, but instead it changed the most."

"I know," Nanaki replied. "I always thought that, whatever happened, Bugenhagen would always be there to manage the needs of the canyon. When he died, I didn't know what to do. The world puts a lot of responsibility on us sometimes, and it doesn't slow down for anyone. Everything's always changing, and you can never go back. You just have to learn to endure."

Yuffie nodded resolutely and stood up again, wiping the tears from her eyes. Suddenly she turned back towards the entrance, smiling.

"You can come out from behind that wall now," she said. Nanaki turned around in surprise as Tsoyu stepped into the doorway looking extremely embarrassed.

"I'm sorry, Lady Yuffie. I was bringing some relics we salvaged from the Pagoda here for safekeeping and–"

"The rest of you, too." Nanaki's eyes widened in astonishment as Barret and Chekhov also came out from behind the wall and stood behind Tsoyu, with their eyes on the floor, the walls, or the ceiling– anywhere away from Yuffie's face.

Yuffie almost laughed as she saw the disbelief on their faces. Barret, Chekhov, and Tsoyu must have thought they were completely silent, and Nanaki was surprised that she had heard something his augmented ears had not.

"Don't be ashamed," she said lightheartedly. "I've eavesdropped on all of you many times before." And for a moment, as she delighted in the amazement of her companions, she felt that perhaps nothing had changed, recalling all the times that Cloud and the others had held meetings on the Highwind and never bothered to tell her. It had always puzzled them how she knew exactly where they were headed even though nobody ever told her. But almost instantly she brought herself back to the present. There was not much time, and many things to be done.

"How many men do we have, Tsoyu?" she asked, her voice serious again. "How many are willing to fight for Wutai? We must attack early tomorrow, and everything has to be prepared." Gorkii looked away, as if ashamed to reply.

"I'm afraid it is not good. Many men were killed in the attack, and–"

"How many?" Yuffie asked again.

"Eighty at the most." Seeing her shocked expression, Tsoyu added "I'm sorry, Yuffie. It is our fault. We could not defend the city properly, and many lives were lost. Even I cannot accompany you, because of this wound in my arm."

"I will heal you, though my side prevents me from coming with you myself," Chekhov said. "I can at least help by allowing you to go into battle to avenge Godo and all the others who lost their lives tonight."

Tsoyu thanked him graciously, but Yuffie's mind was still on the number of soldiers. _Only eighty men?_ she thought incredulously. _Staniv and the Haradin have at least four hundred, and probably more. How can we even consider fighting back with such a disadvantage? It would be suicide for us and any soldiers we bring with us._ But then she looked over at Barret and Nanaki, and saw only determination in their faces. They knew the odds they fought against, but were willing to risk their lives regardless. _And isn't that what father used to say? _she realized. _The Haradin won't expect us to attack immediately with so few men. Even if they do, it's worth a shot. There are no lives at stake that would not be at risk if we wait until the Haradin attack the town again._ Composing herself, she addressed Tsoyu.

"Take me to the warriors. They must be motivated if we are to strike successfully tomorrow." Yuffie began to walk towards the doorway, but would have collapsed on the floor if Tsoyu had not caught her. Glancing at the clock on the mantelpiece as she struggled to pull herself up, she saw that it was already past midnight. The time had gone so fast, and she realized that her frantic worrying had drained her energy completely. Still she pushed herself out of Tsoyu's grasp and headed for the door, but was held back by Barret .

"Don't worry 'bout it, Yuffie," he said solemnly. "You go get some rest, now. We'll talk to the men."

"It's my duty to Wutai to show myself to them. They have to see me, to know that I'm serious about this. Let me go."

"It's your duty to Wutai to be able to lead the warriors into battle tomorrow, and for that you need to sleep," Chekhov replied. "You can speak to the men in the morning. Besides, we must rise early if we are to catch the Haradin by surprise."

Yuffie nodded reluctantly, and stumbled off to her room, her head filled with doubts about the coming day. _Will they even follow me?_ she could not help but wonder. _Will these warriors, these veterans, be content to take orders from a woman much younger than them who didn't even obey her own father? If I have to,_ she answered herself, _I'll do it myself, with my materia as my only ally._ Yuffie collapsed on her bed and was asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow, her mind for once untroubled by dreams.

Akhamir gazed out over the lofty peaks surrounding the frozen valley deep in the Da-Chao mountains. The hail that had fallen over the mountains as they retreated from Wutai had now ceased, and left the night sky completely clear. But the unexpected improvement in the weather did nothing to improve his mood. At least his men had left him alone. Those who had not been assigned to guard the valley's entrances were either resting in the numerous caves that dotted the walls of the canyon, or milling about on the larger ledges, talking, trading, and sharpening their weapons. But the two people who angered him the most had chosen to sit on the same ledge as himself. For what must have been the hundredth time, Akhamir turned to face the cave mouth behind him and considered finding another location.

Thousands of endlessly crisscrossing tunnels, hollowed out ages ago by massive burrowing worms, connected the many ledges that protruded from the canyon's steep cliffs. It was possible to get lost in the winding tunnels for hours and find nothing but dead ends and sheer drops. But Akhamir and several of the others knew this gorge well; it had been a major Haradin stronghold in the days before their exodus from the mountains. All the passages leading to important ledges and caverns had been carefully marked years earlier, and Akhamir even had some memorized. Only a few abandoned trails led to the valley, making it an ideal location for a hidden camp.

Akhamir sighed as looked longingly into the tunnel, wanting both to get away from his unwanted companions and to relive his childhood dreams of exploring the caverns in search of precious gems. But he would have to wait. Both the Marksman and the Wutaian were perched on the edge of the cliff, looking out over the frozen mountains, but they would surely notice if he left, and he wouldn't put it past either of them to take it as a personal insult. Too much was at stake to risk shattering fragile alliances because of personal dislike.

Staniv sat on the southern ledge, perhaps looking out over the mountains bordering his hometown, where he had lived all his life, and betrayed his ancestors only hours earlier. His men were gone; where, Akhamir could not tell. Most of them were common rebels, filled with bitter hatred towards their home, but the small group of warriors who called themselves the Shadow Fists were different. They seemed to come and go as they pleased, vanishing into and out of the shadows. From what Akhamir could tell, there were less than fifty of the warriors, but he did not doubt their skill on the battlefield, nor that of their commander. Akhamir watched the brooding Wutaian suspiciously, his gaze inadvertently dropping to the man's arms, which were thankfully now only arms. He thought he was imagining things when he first saw the man leap into the fray, his arms changing instantly into curved steel swords. The next time Akhamir looked over at him, Staniv's arms transformed into a pair of fanged vipers, which instantly struck at the throats of two nearby Wutaians as if they had a life of their own. From what little Akhamir understood of the Wutaian language, the Shadow Fists referred to him as 'Weapon Change,' but he had not thought to interpret it literally.

It wasn't only because of Staniv's unnatural powers that Akhamir mistrusted him. The man was Wutaian, born and bred as an enemy of the Haradin. Even though he seemed to have a deep hatred of the ruler of Wutai, Akhamir could not bring himself to trust the man. He was almost sure Staniv would betray them as soon as they captured Wutai, but could not take the risk of offending him, for fear of angering the man to whom he answered, the same foreigner who had commissioned the Harad-Zun to attack Cosmo Canyon. Akhamir wished he knew more about this Maxwell, who was a complete enigma to the Haradin. All that he knew of Maxwell's motives was that he wished to have the huge materia, and to have Nanaki and his allies killed. But neither Staniv nor his mysterious commander were the true objects of Akhamir's anger. His eyes narrowed as they crossed over to the northern end of the ledge, where the Marksman sat, staring out at the icy peaks.

The Marksman embodied everything that Akhamir disliked about the new generation of Haradin. In many ways he was responsible for the changes that had come over the tribe, which he brought with him when he first stumbled into the fortress eight years ago. He had replaced their ancient religion and traditions with technology and news from the modern world. More and more young Haradin were trained with rifles as their first weapons, and the honor of the Haradin warrior was vanishing along with his traditional weaponry. When the aged lord of Wutai, probably the same one who had fought so nobly against Zarkhan when they were both young, was shot in the leg, many Haradin warriors had tried to kill him while he lay at a disadvantage, which would have never happened before the Marksman's arrival. Even the guns themselves, which allowed an unskilled child to fell the greatest warrior, were violations of the code set down years ago by the fathers of the Haradin tribe.

Akhamir sighed again as he realized how much had changed. He was the oldest of those who had returned to Wutai, at nearly fifty, and the only one who had been old enough to fight alongside Zarkhan in the final battle with the Wutaians. Some of the men with him had been born in Da-Chao, but most of them had never set foot in the lands of their fathers, and did not care to uphold the tribe's traditions. Many of them trusted the Marksman's leadership more than his, even though he was more than twice the man's age and had seen many more battles. Akhamir was not even sure how much Zarkhan remained true to the old customs; though he did not doubt the wisdom and leadership of the Harad-Zun chieftain, he feared that his friend had begun to believe the same idea that had seized many of the young warriors: victory by any means necessary. And Akhamir was prepared even to disobey his chieftain's command if it strayed too far from the code he had always followed and still did.

But even though he did not trust the Marksman in the slightest, Akhamir had to take orders from him. Even though he knew the mountains better than any of the others, it was up to the Marksman to decide when and how to attack. He was the only one in whom the foreigner Maxwell confided; the only one who knew the full extent of the man's plan, and what exactly the terms of their agreement were. Akhamir knew he would have to follow the Marksman's commands, no matter how ridiculous they were, or risk the wrath of all the young gunmen who idolized the man, Maxwell, and his numerous allies. Akhamir noticed that the Marksman had turned his gaze towards him, and realized he had to say something to break the awkward tension building up between them.

"So what do we do now?" he asked, walking over to where the Marksman sat, his loose battle scarf flapping in the wind.

"We wait," the man replied, and turned his gaze to the distant peaks. "In the morning, they will enter the mountains. We will be ready for them."

"And what happens then?"

The Marksman slowly turned his stare to Akhamir, his cold green eyes fixed intently on the older man's face, as if wondering why anybody would ask such a stupid question. Finally he turned away, his eyes returning to the mountains. The simplicity of his reply almost made Akhamir pity Nanaki and his allies.

"Then we kill them."


	9. Chapter 8: Betrayal

Chapter Eight: Betrayal

The phone rang.

Judy Adams sighed with frustration as she hastily tucked the large official folder from Shinra's science department under one arm and the report from the defense department between her knees, then opened her purse as the phone rang for the second time. Just as she flipped open the phone, the folder under her arm slipped out, scattering papers across the carpeted floor of the empty corridor. She moved to catch them, and the files between her legs fell, landing in a disorderly heap among the other documents. Judy began to scoop all the papers into one pile, no longer caring where they belonged, while the phone, now forgotten on the floor, rang again.

Trying to keep calm, Judy considered how perfectly fitting this was with the rest of her day, in which everything had been impossibly chaotic. Reeve's sudden departure had left her with hundreds of tasks to manage; in addition to her own workload, she had to speak at Preston and Schwartzberg's funerals, and sort through all the meaningless paperwork Preston would have handled, were he still alive. By now she had gathered all her papers into one pile and stuffed them into a folder, then found her phone, which lay on the floor several feet away. As the phone rang for the fourth time, Judy began to grow irritated. Who was it, anyways? What could be so important that they had to bother her in the only time she had to herself all day? _Probably another stupid official bothering me with another stupid statistic._ The phone rang one more time, and she finally picked it up. Sighing with vexation, she spoke into the phone rather crossly.

"Yes?"

"Hello, Judy," came the reply in a quiet, eloquent voice. "Do you know who this is?"

Judy's breath caught in her throat. In the midst of her new responsibilities she had completely forgotten about Maxwell. _How did he know my number?_ she wondered, her mind racing to think of some way, any way, out of her dangerous alliance with the man without risking death. Cid Highwind had succeeded in what she had deemed impossible: bringing back the true Reeve, who, though naïve and inexperienced in some ways, was nonetheless a competent leader. But she could not expose Maxwell without bringing her former plans to light and ruining herself. _And I'd die of shame if Reeve realized my intentions last night._ She reddened just thinking about it, and quickly took her mind of the subject, as if Maxwell could somehow read her thoughts over the phone. _Considering everything he knows,_ she thought, _it wouldn't be surprising._ Judy realized that she had waited too long, and turned her attention to the phone.

"Maxwell," she whispered, and heard soft laughter on the other end of the line.

"So you haven't forgotten me after all. Presumably, then, you haven't forgotten our deal either. So tell me what has transpired since we last spoke. Has everything gone according to plan?"

For what seemed like an eternity Judy considered how to respond. She knew the night had not turned out as he had planned, and had no idea how he would react. But lying to him presented its own dangers. _He could already know what happened,_ she realized._ This could all be a test. And what would he do if he catches me lying?_ With no better plan available, she decided on telling the truth. Taking a deep breath, she recounted everything that had happened after she left the storage room, skipping only the details of her encounter with Reeve in the middle of the night. There was silence for a long time after shed finished, and she began to dread Maxwell's response.

"So it was this Cid Highwind who ended up ruining the plan," he said finally, in a flat, emotionless voice. Judy realized that he was not asking a question and didn't know how to respond. She was afraid that anything she said would let loose the anger that the man was clearly struggling to hold back. Just as she began to wonder if Maxwell had hung up on her, he spoke again. "This is not what I had planned, but I believe we can turn it to our advantage." Judy sighed with relief when she heard the calmness in his voice, then realized Maxwell had more to say.

"However, in order to succeed, we must take action, and quickly. I will require some small actions on your part; nothing involving…the skills you employed for your previous assignment."

Judy blushed heavily, glad that Maxwell could not see her.

"What exactly do I have to do?"

"First you must contact the Soldiers you sent to Junon and order them to return. After that you can meet another of my associates, who happens to work for this same company. And then our work will begin."

Judy closed her eyes in horror as Maxwell elaborated on his schemes. She had never considered that Maxwell could have other agents within Shinra, but now that she thought about it, she realized he was sure to have many. They were probably influential, powerful members of the company who could present evidence against her if she tried to alert anybody to Maxwell's plot. She had no way out. All she could do now was hope, hope that wherever they were, Reeve and the others managed to slip out of Maxwell's grasp.

The sun beat down out of a clear sky over the wide, open, grasslands, where the remnants of the previous night's heavy rain had formed puddles in the muddy ditches that grew more numerous as the rugged hills around Neo-Midgar gave way to the fertile fields to the east. Something about the sudden change in the weather invited nostalgic memories in Tifa: hiking across these same fields under the constant gaze of the relentless sun, with Cloud, Barret, and Aeris close by and Nanaki scouting a few yards ahead. She remembered it vividly, walking all day from what was then only the quiet town of Kalm, resting at one of the many lonely chocobo ranches that dotted the plains, and passing through the dark, silent Mithril Mines to reach the Fortress of the Condor by sunset. She could almost see Cloud walking beside her, his eyes locked on the distant mountains, putting his arm around her shoulder to reassure her…

Tifa shook her head suddenly, and the image faded. Cid stood several feet ahead, gazing out at the distance they had yet to cover, his maimed right hand blocking the glare of the afternoon sun. Turning, she saw Reeve hurrying to catch up, his face red with effort. After leaving Neo-Midgar in the morning, they had set out at a brisk pace through the rocky hills with no bad weather to slow them down, and reached the grasslands early in the afternoon. Now, the sun had passed its peak, and they had made considerable progress across the plains, stopping only a few times to rest for several minutes and let Reeve catch his breath.

Cid scowled as he turned his gaze back towards Tifa and Reeve and lit a cigarette.

"Damn! There's still plenty of fucking ground we gotta cover to reach the mines by nightfall," he said, clenching his spear tightly. "C'mon, John," he added in a somewhat calmer voice, looking down at the Shinra executive, who had collapsed on the ground from fatigue. "There's lots of work we still gotta do today." Tifa's legs seemed about to collapse, but she did not protest, and Reeve pushed himself off the ground without a comment.

They walked onwards silently, and Tifa thought about the changes that had come over Cid in the past few hours. He seemed to have picked up habits he had on their original journey, habits she had noticed were gone when she met him again at the reunion. He was spitting and swearing just as much as when Tifa had first met him; his habits seemed to have resurfaced subconsciously because Shera was no longer there to moderate them. Cid was silent on the matter of her death, and though Tifa could understand why, she was surprised he had told nothing to the police officers who had questioned him about her death. It was clear that Cid had seen the assassin, and even fought with him, but he refused to give the police a description of the man. It was as if he did not want anybody to prevent him from personally getting revenge. Tifa realized that Cid was walking beside her, periodically glancing back at Reeve, who was still lagging several yards behind.

"I'm worried about Reeve," he said in response to her inquisitive glance. "I don't think he'll be able to make it if it gets dangerous. We've been out here for only six hours and he's already completely exhausted. We could be out here for more than a week if we don't find any leads soon. And I don't like where this whole thing is heading. Something tells me it's gonna get pretty fuckin' ugly. If he keeps this up, there's no way he's gonna be able to handle it when it gets rough."

But as Tifa thought about all that had changed over the past seven years, she realized that Reeve's chance of survival was not any lower than hers. She felt clumsy and awkward after seven years without practice, and she doubted she would be able to defend herself in a dangerous situation. She could only hope Cid could get them out of trouble alone, for she was sure her skills would fail her. _But I'll try,_ she resolved, gritting her teeth. _I won't give up, even if death is certain. I have to find Cloud before it's too late for both of us._

Looking around, Tifa saw that the ground was gradually leveling out and becoming soggier. The bountiful fields had vanished, and patches of marsh grass stuck out above the muddy ground. They had reached the swamps, the last stretch of ground separating them from the Mithril Mines. They had made it in good time, too; there were still two hours till sunset, which gave them plenty of time to cut across the marsh and enter the caves. Tifa and Cid had realized immediately that the only hope they had of finding Cloud was following his path, but they could only guess at what that could be. The food he brought suggested that he intended to take a long journey, which meant that he probably would cross the mountains. And if this was the case, he would be sure to use the Mithril Mines. They were not the shortest or the safest path through the mountains, but they had been seven years ago, and Cloud knew them better than any of the others.

For a long time they walked onwards across the marsh. Reeve seemed reluctant to go on, but Cid didn't slow down. Finally Reeve spoke up.

"I don't like this place. The ground has been moving beneath my feet ever since we got here."

Cid sighed with exasperation.

"That's what happens when you're in a fucking swamp. Get used to it." He glanced back in the direction they had come, where the grasslands were now out of sight, obscured by the dense mist that settled over the marshes, and then at the mountains again, which loomed up out of the fog in the distance. "We've only got about an hour of walking left to do anyways. Let's go."

"Wait," Reeve cried out as Cid strode off without a backwards glance. "I'm serious about this. There's something moving down there. I don't know what it is, but it isn't just–"

Reeve was thrown off his feet as the ground erupted near him, and a shower of earth sludge rained down on Cid and Tifa. Shielding herself from the falling earth, Tifa saw a massive serpent rise out of the gaping pit where Reeve had stood only seconds earlier. She could only watch in horror as the snake slowly rose higher and higher into the air, swaying menacingly and gazing intently at the terrified Reeve. The colossal snakes known as Midgar Zoloms were the main reason that the Mithril Mines were abandoned; each year more and more travelers vanished before they even reached the caves. Tifa had come across two in her lifetime, one impaled on a tree at the edge of the marsh by Sephiroth, and another which she, Cloud, and Nanaki had barely managed to evade. She was sure she could have killed one when her skills were at their peak, but now she just stood helpless, paralyzed by fright.

Only Cid reacted in time, grasping his spear tightly and gritting his teeth as the blade began to glow a brilliant emerald green. The Zolom lunged at Reeve, who gave a terrified cry and closed his eyes, just as lightning arced out from the Venus Gospel into the back of the serpent's head. The snake hissed angrily and darted at its new opponent. But Cid remained perfectly calm, jumping out of the way as the snake lunged and jabbing at it with his spear. Tifa came to her senses and concentrated on her own materia, and flames sprung up around her hands. She leapt at the Zolom without hesitation, delivering blow after blow with her blazing fists. Distracted, the Zolom turned towards Tifa, and that was all the opportunity Cid needed. The Venus Gospel struck the snake right below its jaw, and the blade punctured the weakest point in the scaly armor easily. The Zolom thrashed madly as blood gurgled from the wound in its throat, and Tifa was flung from the body, landing next to Reeve, who was watching the dying serpent in shock. Finally the writhing slowed down and ceased completely, and the body fell to the ground with a crash. Cid pulled his spear from the wound and walked over to Tifa and Reeve.

"You guys okay?" he asked. Tifa slowly pulled herself up, gazing at the pilot in surprise. Apparently, he had not lost any of his skill over the last seven years. Reeve nodded numbly, still preoccupied with the Zolom's body. "Come on, then. We're nearly there," Cid continued, and began to walk onwards.

The rest of their journey was undisturbed, and they reached the mines shortly after sunset. Cautiously, they entered the dark caverns, with Cid in the lead. Tifa summoned a small flame to light their path, but, in the flickering light, the caves only seemed even more vast and foreboding. All they could see through the gloom was the eerie greenish glow of the lichen that painted the jagged rock walls. Reeve was the most affected, jumping with fright and staring wildly into the darkness at every noise. After what seemed like an eternity, they stopped on a ledge overlooking a large cave, lit up by the glow of a fire. By the edge of the fire, a hunched-over man sat next to some worn blankets and discarded scraps of meat covered in a mass of mangy furs. Hearing them enter the cave, the man turned around quickly, revealing himself to be elderly and grey-bearded.

"Bloody 'ell," he said in surprise. "Been gettin' a lot of visitors lately. No problem though. Make yeselves at home, mates." So saying, he turned back to his meal. Upon closer inspection, Tifa stepped back, trying to keep the disgust off her face. The man was gnawing on a rat, several more of which were strewn out across the cave floor. But his personal habits did not interest Tifa. She was more intrigued by what he had just said.

"A lot of visitors?" she asked. "Could you perhaps describe one of them? Somebody who passed through here very early this morning?"

"A tall lad with ridiculous hair, carryin' a bloody 'uge sword? That who ye lookin' for?" Tifa nodded, hardly daring to breathe.

"I was out in the caves, huntin' some of these critters for me dinner," he continued, gesturing towards the pile of dead rats. "Then that fellow wandered in, mumblin' to 'imself. Poor bloke must 'ave been mad. Seemed to know where 'e was goin' though. I was curious, so I followed 'im. After a few minutes 'e lay down on the floor and fell asleep. I went back to get meself more food, and when I returned 'e was gone. Must 'ave been real eager to get somewhere." Tifa's heart raced anxiously.

"Do you have any idea where he was going?" she asked hopefully.

"Actually, I do. Before I left, I 'eard 'im mutterin' something. I didn't quite catch what 'e said, but I did 'ear something about Nibel'eim."

Thanking the hermit generously, Tifa followed Cid and Reeve back through the caves, immersed in her thoughts. _So Nibelheim's where we're headed,_ she thought, frowning slightly. Tifa's hometown was one place to which she did not want to return. It reminded her too much of what she had lost twelve years ago, making her realize just how much she needed Cloud to hold the pieces of her shattered world together, to maintain the illusion when she could not confront reality. Cloud was the only remaining link to the world she grew up in, the world that had suddenly vanished. After the destruction of Nibelheim, the desire to prevent others from facing the devastation she had was all that had fueled Tifa's desire to live. After Sephiroth's demise and Shinra's reformation, she had lost even that. She had tried to live an ordinary life, using Cloud to convince herself that somehow, nothing had changed. She had to find him soon, or face the reality that she had avoided for years. Tifa made herself stop thinking about it, and noticed that Cid had stopped.

"We'll rest here for the night, and follow Cloud in the morning," Cid said, and began to unroll the sleeping bags they had packed. Reeve remained standing, motionless.

"You mean here? On the floor?" he asked incredulously. Cid looked up, exasperated.

"Yes, on the floor. Get used to it; we're might be doing this pretty often in the days to come." Reeve still seemed unconvinced.

"But what about protection?" he asked. "Anything could be lurking around here."

"Just go to sleep. We'll take turns staying awake to watch the camp."

"I'll take first watch," Tifa volunteered. She doubted she would be able to get to sleep soon anyways, with so many thoughts crowding her mind. As the two men prepared themselves for sleep, Tifa stared into the darkness all around her, the darkness separating her from Cloud. _And then what?_ she wondered. _Will everything just go back to what it was like before, the happily married normal life that I always hoped for? Could I even bear to live that way, after everything that has happened?_ Tifa tried to ignore the questions, but she had a horrible feeling that it didn't matter. Somehow, she knew that a normal life was not coming, and that her future would be anything but certain. Getting to Nibelheim and finding Cloud would only be the beginning.

Night turned to day, and sunlight bathed the rock wall in front of Cid. He stood up to wake the others, gripping his spear resolutely. It was past time to be gone.

"Here's the plan," he said when everybody was awake and ready. "We're gonna head to Junon, where we'll explain what's up and get a plane to take us to Nibelheim. Depending on how Cloud went, we might even get there before him. We gotta go soon, to get there as quick as possible."

"For once I'm eager to get going," Reeve said, looking considerably more cheerful than he had the previous day. "I just hope we get to Junon before I die of exhaustion." Tifa simply nodded in acknowledgement and they headed off.

It was a long and uneventful five hours before Junon came into sight in the distance. Like Neo-Midgar, it had grown in the past seven years, and now covered more than twice the area it had before. The city had expanded beyond the armored fortress walls that once contained it; now that it was at peace with its neighbors the city's importance as a military stronghold had declined. Junon had originally been built as a two-tiered city, clinging to the face of a massive cliff, but now it had overflowed its former limitations onto both the plains above and the shores below. Huge power plants, built to compensate for the energy that was lost when mako power was banned, stood out sharply against the pale sky.

"Civilization at last," Reeve said, his face lighting up, as they entered the city. "We'll finally have a chance to rest."

Neither Cid nor Tifa replied; they were gazing at the city in surprise. Junon was not at all like Cid had remembered it, when he had last been there four years ago. But there was no time to wait around and explore. They had to press on to the Shinra sector and get a plane. All of Junon had been controlled by Shinra seven years ago, but the city had gained independence after the company's reformation. Shinra Soldiers no longer patrolled the streets, and none of the past three mayors were Shinra employees.

As they walked down broad avenues towards the company headquarters, Cid glanced into a shop window, and saw three red-clad Junon policemen following them. _It's probably nothing,_ he thought. _They just happen to be walking in the same direction as us._ But as they walked onwards, and the policemen did not turn away, he began to doubt it. He began walking faster, and Tifa and Reeve hurried after him, but when he caught sight of the policemen again, in the side-mirror of a parked car, they were even closer than before.

"We're being followed," he whispered to Tifa, who looked at him in surprise but said nothing. "Stay close to me."

The police had been slowly increasing their pace, and Cid knew he did not have much time. Nodding to Tifa, he turned at the next intersection, breaking into a run as soon as he was out of sight. There was very little time before the policemen would turn the corner and see them. He darted blindly into an alley, and Tifa and Reeve entered seconds later. They crouched in the shadows as footsteps sounded in the otherwise abandoned street. Then Reeve, regaining his breath, said aloud,

"What's going on? Why are we– " Tifa clamped a hand over his mouth desperately, but it was too late. They had been heard. The footsteps quickened, and the police entered the alley.

"Excuse me. We're from the Junon city police department, and we'd like to ask you several questions," their leader said, and then continued without waiting for a response. "We're on the lookout for a group of criminals wanted in Neo-Midgar, and–"

"This is ridiculous," Reeve cut him off angrily. "You've clearly got the wrong people. Are you blind? I am John Reeve, the President of Shinra, and I demand an explanation for this behavior."

"We just received word from Neo-Midgar. John Reeve was shot at the ceremony yesterday and died from his wounds later in the evening." The police sergeant smiled triumphantly. "The criminals we are hunting are an impostor and his accomplices, whom James Warrington believes to be in league with the assassins." Reeve was speechless, and the sergeant signaled for his men to come forward. "I don't think anything else has to be said. Get them."

The two policemen moved quickly, but Tifa was faster. Her first punch caught one of them directly in the face, and she followed it with several others, knocking him off his feet. The second man grabbed for his gun, but Tifa's precisely aimed kick struck his wrist, sending the pistol flying from his grasp. Defenseless, the man fell as Tifa brought the kick down into his stomach. The leader tried to escape, but Cid swept his legs out from under him with the shaft of his spear, then hit him again in the stomach with its butt. Checking that the police were unconscious, Cid sighed.

"This is gonna be more complicated than I thought. We gotta steal a plane."

"Are you mad?" Reeve asked incredulously. "There must be some easier way to deal with this. We'll talk to somebody in the company headquarters. Warrington's the one who's responsible for this; he must have faked the news from Neo-Midgar. I'm going to bring that bastard to justice, whatever it takes. We have to go to the headquarters and contact Neo-Midgar. They'll straighten out this whole mess."

"It's not gonna work, John," Cid replied. "Whether Warrington or somebody in Neo-Midgar is behind this, they think we're criminals and we can't change that right now. The most we can do is try to stay focused on our original goal. Something tells me isn't a simple misunderstanding. We can sort it all out once Cloud's back with us."

Reeve finally nodded, and Cid looked over at Tifa. She had not said a word in the argument, and appeared lost in her thoughts. From her expression, Cid could see that she wasn't surprised by this turn of events.

"We better go, then," Cid continued. "It won't be long before somebody finds these bodies." But here Cid stopped to take the a pistol from the body of one of the policemen. Checking its ammunition, he tossed it at Reeve, who caught it with surprise. "Keep that on you," Cid instructed. "You might be needin' it soon."

"Wh…What do I do with this?"

"Just pull the trigger and hope you kill something. Let's go."

After over an hour of darting down side streets they gazed out onto the Shinra airport from the end of a trash-ridden alley. A high fence separated them from the huge cement lot that held all of Junon's aircraft. Cid smiled to himself as he saw the label warning passerby that the fence was electric. He pointed the Venus Gospel at it, and, as one of his materia began to glow, the electrical current flowed from the fence into the spear, traveling up the blade and into the glowing orb. After a short time, the glow in the orb faded, and Cid turned to the others.

"It's harmless now," he said with a short laugh. "Who woulda thought getting into a highly guarded airport would be the easiest part?" So saying, he grabbed a hold of the fence, and quickly clambered over it. As soon as they were all over, he looked around with a smile. "I got a plan."

Several minutes later, a mechanic's truck pulled up in front of a small military transport plane. Nobody noticed as a scruffily dressed man climbed out, unlocked the door, and ushered two others inside. As Tifa closed the door behind them, Cid glanced around the cockpit.

"It doesn't look too hard. I'll get the hang of it."

"You're telling me you don't know how to fly this thing?" Reeve asked, looking more than a little worried.

"Don't worry, John. I'll figure it out." Cid felt the same tension he knew the others were feeling as the plane began to slowly move. This was it; the final barrier they had to overcome before they were clear of Junon. After what seemed like an eternity, the plane began to accelerate, and finally soared out into the open air. Cid let out a sigh of relief. But it wasn't over yet.

Glancing in the carefully positioned mirror on the inside of the windshield, Cid saw four Shinra helicopters gaining on the heavier transport ship rapidly. They had only just left the ground, but at the rate they were moving, they would overtake him soon.

"Shit!" he swore, glancing frantically ahead for any means of escape. "Get ready, guys!" he shouted over the roar of the engine. "We got company!" Tifa and Reeve clambered into the cockpit, and Cid pointed at the rapidly approaching helicopters, then ahead to a patch of sky that was completely covered by dense clouds. "This ship's got no weapons, so if they catch us, we're pretty much fucked. But if we can get to that cloud bank, I should be able to shake 'em. It's risky, but it's the only chance we got. Just try and hold off these fucking helicopters."

The heavy steel door in the side of the plane opened slowly as Tifa pulled down on a nearby switch. With Reeve right behind her, she cautiously approached the opening, careful not to step too far and be whisked away by the violent winds whipping up around the plane. She saw the first of the helicopters steadily gaining on them with a group of Soldiers crouched inside, ready to attack as soon as they came in range. Flames sprung up around Tifa's open hand, and for a moment she hesitated. It had been long, too long, since she had last fought to take human life. She had sworn to leave that life behind. But they were Soldiers, trained to kill without mercy. It was either them or the Soldiers, and she would not let her friends die.

Without further hesitation, she flung the fireball in an arc, watching as it streaked through the air and collided with the strongest source of heat nearby: the helicopter's engine. The helicopter exploded in a cloud of flame, and scraps of debris were all that she could see through the smoke. Tifa looked on without blinking, surprised at how calm she had remained. _Even after seven years I didn't flinch. Could I ever live a normal life now that I'm so used to death?_ Tifa suppressed the thoughts. There were still three helicopters getting closer by the second.

"Good job, Tifa!" Cid shouted from the cockpit. "Just give me a few more minutes and we'll be clear."

She saw the helicopters again as the smoke cleared and immediately realized the gravity of the situation. One of them would be in firing range in seconds, while the other two were advancing at a greater distance, attempting to cut the plane off. Hastily, Tifa summoned another fireball, but cried out as a bullet skimmed her shoulder, and she stumbled backwards. The fireball flew from her hand, spinning out of control, and struck the helicopter's thick windshield. From a secure position behind the plane's side wall, she peered out and saw that the windshield had splintered. But the pilot did not seem deterred, and the helicopter was still closing in rapidly. Tifa tried to summon another fireball, but found herself unable to do so. Looking down at her materia orbs, she saw a faint grey barrier surrounding them. A materia lock, or silencer, was one of the basic techniques taught to higher ranking Soldiers. Without her materia, Tifa was useless against the enemy helicopter, and it would be less than a minute before the Soldiers boarded the ship and killed them.

"Reeve!" she said, remembering the gun Cid had given him. "You have to help me. My materia have been locked down." Turning, she saw that he already clenched the gun tightly, so tightly that his knuckles were white. His eyes were locked intently on the helicopter, and his brows were set in determination, but he had not moved. Tifa saw that his arms were shaking. "Please, Reeve," she whispered helplessly. Slowly, with a confused mixture of terror and determination, Reeve raised the pistol till it was level with the helicopter. But still he didn't fire. Behind her, Tifa heard bullets embedding themselves in the steel of the ship wall, and knew that they would soon penetrate the plane's armor.

"Fuck! What taking so long?" Cid demanded angrily. "I need less than a minute to get us to safety; just keep them from blowing us out of the sky!" Clenching his jaw and steadying his arm, Reeve moved into the doorway. And then he fired. Tifa followed Reeve's horrified gaze to the helicopter pilot, to the surprise on his face as the bullet hit him in the forehead. He slumped over slowly, falling forward as the helicopter spun out of control and plummeted towards the earth. Reeve was now staring at the Soldiers, abandoning their guns, those who had not been flung from the helicopter struggling with their parachutes. And then the world went white. Cold mist billowed in through the door, and from the cockpit, Cid let out a whoop of laughter.

"We fucking made it! We got nothing to worry about now; there's no way the other helicopters can track us in here. Hey, somebody close that door. It's fucking freezing in here." Reeve did not move, so Tifa flipped the switch up again, and the door slid shut. "It'll be a while still before we get to Nibelheim," Cid continued. "Probably four or five hours. Try to get some rest or something. Nibelheim's not such a big place; finding Cloud shouldn't be too hard. With any luck we'll be out of there by tomorrow morning, and we can head back to Neo-Midgar. What do you say to that, John?"

Reeve did not reply. He was staring wide-eyed at his empty, shaking hands.

"Wake up, Reno."

Reno felt a sharp kick in his side. Moaning, he rolled over and covered his face.

"Lemme sleep. It's Sunday. I'm allowed…to sleep late…on Sunday."

"It seems he doesn't want to get up. Let's go, Rude," Vincent said. Instantly, Reno sat bolt upright.

"Vincent? What the hell? Did I just imagine–" Memories of the previous day suddenly came back to Reno, and he stopped abruptly. "Shit," he muttered, shaking his head as he slowly pushed himself up off the floor. "I can't believe that you're actually alive. You gotta tell us how that happened." Vincent regarded both Turks with a blank expression.

"It's a long story," he said finally.

"We got time," Reno replied.

"You first, then." Reno sighed. He knew from experience that arguing with Vincent was an exercise in futility. He cleared his throat.

"I guess it started after we stopped receiving updates from the research group in Nibelheim," he began. "After about a week, the President sent us to investigate. We found your body on a table in the basement. We thought you were dead. Next thing I knew Hojo was behind us with a gun to my head. He forced us into a pair of cylinders filled with some kinda green shit. That's all I remember before they woke us up thirty years later.

"Meanwhile, the Turks were getting fucked over by Shinra. During the war with Wutai, Shinra began to cut back on the Turks' budget so they could put more money into their Soldier Program. Without decent equipment, dozens of squads were lost, and others were disbanded to reduce Shinra's debts. By the end of the war there were only four left. One of them was ambushed by some rebel tribes in the Gongaga jungle. Only a Wutaian named Tseng survived, and he was badly wounded. For defeating the rebels, Tseng was given his own squad as soon as he recovered. That's when some people finally got their asses down to the basement and revived us, and Elena was recruited to be the fourth squad member.

"We were assigned to follow your fucking terrorist pals around the world on some kinda ridiculous goose chase. Shinra was going from bad to worse. After Rufus took power, we worked our asses off all day and got no breaks. Tseng went off early one morning to reach the Temple of the Ancients before Sephiroth or Avalanche." Reno paused for a second. "He was gonna take us with him, but gave us a day off 'cause we were tired. I can't stop wondering what woulda happened if we went. Tseng never came back. We found his body in the evening, leaning against a pillar. I never got the chance to repay that fucker Cloud, but when I see him–"

"Sephiroth," Vincent interrupted. "There were several things I disliked about Cloud but he was not the one who killed your leader."

"Shit!" Reno said in surprise. "All this time I thought it was him. Y'know, I don't really have a reason to hate Cloud so much anymore. I gotta change that."

"He cares to much about his hair," Rude suggested.

"Yeah, that works," Reno replied after a moment of consideration. "Anyways, after Tseng's death, everything fell apart. Ray's squad was sent to guard a Gelnika full of freakish experiments that was supposed to attack the crater, but it was shot down by one of the Weapons. We searched the wreck later but didn't even find their bodies. When Diamond Weapon advanced on Midgar, Rufus sent Gunter and his squad out to delay it. It was suicide, but Gunter was loyal to Shinra. Adan, Gareth, Cole, and Spark tried to kill Rufus before things got any worse. All of them were killed by the ruthless Soldiers still loyal to the company. And then it was just me, Rude, and Elena. The Weapon's lasers blew the top of the Shinra building to pieces, killing Rufus. As Hojo, Scarlet, and Heidegger struggled madly for power, we decided it was past time to be gone.

"Since then, we been all over the fucking place. We were in Midgar for a while, but it's just a pile of shit now. We're only up here, freezing our asses off in these god-fucking-forsaken mountains because some guy offered us the first job we've had in years. Motherfucker could have been a bit more specific, though." Reno let out a short, bitter laugh, then turned to Vincent. "Your turn." Vincent nodded.

"Fair enough. As you know, I left you two with orders to guard a group of scientists working in the Shinra Mansion in Nibelheim. Hojo was there, as well as Professor Gast and an aspiring young biologist named Lucrecia Silver. Everything was fine while Gast was there, but soon he was recalled to Midgar. Hojo took over and things began to get worse. I didn't know exactly what happened down there, but I knew enough to realize that it had to be stopped. Lucrecia reassured me. She told me she was confident in Hojo's judgment and was sure the experiments were not dangerous. I shouldn't have listened to her. Hojo must have drugged her or something." Vincent's hands shook with rage. "She didn't know what she was doing. The next time I saw her, she was pregnant. The child was Sephiroth."

"Jesus Christ," Reno whispered. "So that was how it all started."

"Hojo was insane," Vincent continued. "He wanted to make some kind of superhuman by injecting Lucrecia with cells from Jenova, an alien creature that came to this planet thousands of years ago. He thought Jenova was an ancient, that her cells would make people stronger and smarter. He didn't think about the consequences, about the anguish it caused Lucrecia. I couldn't sleep. I heard her screams of pain every night as she struggled against the monster inside her. I couldn't look her in the face, knowing that I had failed to stop him. I went down to Hojo, and the sight of the bastard, calm and collected as if nothing had happened, infuriated me even more. I shot him, and time seemed to slow down. Something stopped the bullet, some invisible barrier, and I realized there was nothing I could do against him. I tried to run, but a wave of force knocked me back into the wall. Hojo leaned over and grabbed the gun from my limp fingers. The last thing I remembered was the gunshot, and then everything went black.

"I was awakened thirty years later, by members of Avalanche who had deciphered Hojo's notes and unlocked the cold basement room where my body lay. They told me they were following Sephiroth and enemies of Shinra, so I joined them in the hope that I would be able to take revenge on Hojo. To make a long story short, we infiltrated Midgar and killed him at last. I followed the team into the crater, where we fought and killed Sephiroth too. I guess I just… left after that. Somehow, it seemed too easy, like it wasn't really over. Something was calling to me, something that needed finishing. I've wandered the world since then, searching for it, whatever it is." Before Reno could speak, Vincent continued.

"I have to warn you, though, I…am not who I used to be. Hojo injected Jenova cells into me as well, using my body as a subject for his sick experiments. I no longer feel the effects of age, but not without a price. Changes come over me now. Sometimes I can control them, but when I don't, I become a monster, and lose control over my own body. It would be best for you to leave me as quickly as possible, for your own safety."

"What, right after we got here?" Reno laughed incredulously. "Fuck no, man. We're staying. Nothing you can do about it." The silence that followed was too silent. Something was wrong. "Where's Elena?"

"She was right here behind…" Rude trailed off. "Shit."

"Why does it matter?" Vincent asked. "If the woman wants to wander, let her wander."

"Not Elena," Reno replied. "If we're not there, she always manages to get herself into the stupidest fucking situations. Spread out and search the reactor." When all three of them returned empty-handed after twenty minutes, Reno began to worry. _Then she went outside. How stupid can she be? This could take forever._

But it was not long after they stepped outside that Rude called out to them, pointing downwards at a trail of fresh footprints in the snowy sludge. The footprints disappeared as the ground grew rocky, but it was already clear where Elena had gone. A large cave mouth marked the mountainside, and from what little Reno could see of its interior, the rock was unnaturally smooth. Vincent approached the cave.

"It's a recent development. Very recent. Some kind of excavation." Reno laughed.

"Whaddaya know? Once we find Elena, we just follow this tunnel and find our employer too."

"If," Rude corrected him. "If we find Elena." He was right. The depths of the cave looked dark and foreboding. Anything could be down there. Reno shuddered.

"Anybody got a light?" Vincent waved his hand, and a ghostly flame appeared in midair. Reno glanced around him, thinking back fondly to the old days, when nobody had ever complained like Elena. "Just like the old days, huh?" Nobody replied. Vincent walked off into the tunnel.

_Oh right,_ Reno realized. _In the old days, I was the only one who ever fucking said anything. I guess you can never win._ Sighing, he followed Rude into the darkness.


End file.
